


The Wake Up Call

by boredrandom



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredrandom/pseuds/boredrandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>imagineyouropt@tumblr: Imagine Person A’s mother encouraging her shy, but obviously love struck child to take the initiative to ask Person B out because she’s getting old and wants grandchildren soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dream

Miranda had to be dreaming. She searched the upstairs den for anything to confirm her suspicions, anything other than the obvious. It did not feel like a dream; the colors, textures, and smells were correct. The thick carpet between her bare toes, the casting of afternoon light, even her mother's muted perfume was exactly as Miranda remembered. Her mother could have been standing in her den.

Except, Miranda's mother was dead. She died in a car crash when Miranda was twelve. There was no way she could be standing perfectly still, looking out the picture window.

"Hello, Miriam. How have you been?"

The voice caused Miranda's lip to curl. She could hear the smile in her mother's voice and longed for her to turn around.

"Mother," Miranda's voice wavered, "what are you doing here? I am dreaming, aren't I?"

Her mother turned, a smile spread across the features Miranda encountered every day in her own mirror. "Yes, you are dreaming. I'm here because we need to talk. Let's sit." She gestured to the couch closest to her before making her way to it.

Miranda watched, motionless, from the doorway as her mother sat down, then she moved. She settled in beside her mother and wondered if she should be perturbed by this dream, by it's realness. But when she turned to fully face the strawberry blonde and looked into the bright green eyes smiling at her, Miranda no longer cared. She swallowed the tears she felt coming. Taking one of her mother's hands in both of her's, she said as if it were a benediction, "Mom."

Her mother's smile released a small giggle, followed by, "Yes, Miriam. I thought we had already established that." The mocking nature of the comment snapped Miranda out of her stupor and she hugged her mother, for the first time over three decades. There was lifting of her heart at the feel, giving it a farther fall when she realized it'd be the last.

As they parted, Miranda again took her mother's hand into her own. "I've missed you."

"And I you." The fingers around Miranda's tightened briefly before returning to their original hold. "But that is not why I am here."

Miranda's eyebrow rose slightly.

"You know, you were such a shy girl growing up. Never one to admit or share your feelings." She patted her daughter's cheek as she spoke the next sentence. "Even I had to fight to get you to tell me what was going on in that head of yours. But you always knew yourself and what you wanted. Granted, though you were much more logical than emotional most of the time, you never hid from your emotions."

Miranda felt her eyebrows raise higher and opened her mouth to ask her mother why she was sharing this information, but her mother shook her head.

"You never used to run from your feeling or the people who evoked them. But you have been running from Andréa Sachs for the last six months."

Miranda ignored the fact that her mother spoke the brunette's name as she did and that she found it unacceptable. "Why would I be running away from that ungrateful, irresponsible, impudent girl?"

"Because you are in love with a woman who is twenty-five years younger than you?"

Miranda couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes. "Please, not you too." Then she did the math. She hadn't realized Andréa was only twenty-three years old.

"Well, you would do well to listen to Nigel. Not that you allow him enough words to explain himself. But surely you will let me speak my piece?"

If Miranda gave Nigel enough words, he would tell her that she was brooding and in need of a wife. A role that would be filled perfectly by Andréa. He tried to explain this, once. Miranda refused to allow him to finish his thought. He understood not to bring it up again. She did not want to hear it. She did not want to hear it now either, but really what choice did she have?

She sighed and waved her free hand in a vague gesture. She had grown fond of the girl, but love? This was ridiculous. Miranda may have spent more than enough time wondering if she had ever honestly been in love before, but she was sure she'd recognize it when it happened. Grief, confusion, anger, disappointment, and disbelief; those were the feelings Andréa Sachs invoked in Miranda. None of which come anything close to love. She would be able to explain this to her mother.

"Remember the day you hired her?"

Of course she did, but she only nodded, one of her muted nods she learned from the woman sitting next to her.

"Nigel had all reason to suggest the before-and-after piece, yet you did not have her removed from your office."

"That means nothing, I assure you. I was intrigued by her speech on work ethic, which I'm sure you know, turned out to be a lie."

Her mother's head minutely titled to the side, "Intrigued?" She hummed and Miranda knew her mother didn't believe it. However, she left it at that. "You always did have a thing for people who didn't fold under your presence." Then there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, "Stephen never could find the difference between conviction and sniveling."

"Fast forward to cerulean blue. The girl has guts. That's for sure. Correcting you in a room full of subordinates. Her comment showed blatant disregard, no, disrespect of everything you stand for."

Miranda opened her mouth but her mother raised her free hand in a gesture Miranda knew all too well, so she remained silent.

"Instead of firing her, and you have fired many for less, you gave her a lecture. You verbally smacked the girl, teaching her to hold her tongue, but it didn't get the fear you were going for. She feared the consequence of losing a job more than she feared you." She smiled, "I know. You were still intrigued. You had to be, because there were hundreds of other things you would have fired anyone else for. Even after the Miami incident she still had a job."

"Well, there was a hurricane." Miranda internally winced.

The smile that appeared under green eyes was decidedly wicked. "Did you just make an excuse for someone? Since when do you care about the hows and whys?"

"I -"

"No, don't answer that. Just think about it for a bit. Anyone else, Miriam, and you would have fired them. Why was it so important to break the smart, fat girl?" She waited for an answer.

Miranda took a moment to gather her words. "I could see her potential," She kept her voice flat and her face blank, knowing her mother would potentially see her defensiveness regardless, "and I could see her hiding from it. She was being a coward and a hypocrite and I hated it."

"Ahh, now we have some truth. The rest will set you free."

Miranda just rolled her eyes. "I do not see what this has to do with anything. I only wanted to see her reach her potential."

"You wanted to help her, guide her to that potential. And you did something right because after that little speech she decided to stop disappointing you. The smart, fat girl came back a young woman, dressed for the part."

Miranda remembered that day like it was yesterday – having an excellent memory helped with such things. The caterpillar finally shed its repugnant cocoon and the most magnificent creature flew into the office on Chanel wings. And for the first time out loud, Miranda begrudgingly admitted, "Okay, she is beautiful."

Her mother looked slightly surprised by the statement. "Yes, she is. However, you were not in love with her at that point. You were just beginning to see her. Did you notice that the more you saw of her, the better she got at her job."

The smallest of nods was followed by, "She earned her name."

"She did. Is that why you gave her the responsibility of the Book faster than any assistant you've had?"

"I allowed her to deliver the Book because I -," Miranda's voice trailed off. She didn't want to finish the sentence. Her mother was beginning to make sense and Miranda didn't need this right now. She just wanted to spend time with the woman, not talk about the only assistant she ever honestly trusted.

"Because you trusted her." Her mother finished the sentence. "She had proven, while her understanding of fashion was still lacking, that she understood you. Emily didn't stand a chance once this young lady got going."

Miranda knew Emily's loyalty to her was default, a product of her commitment to _Runway_ ; while Andréa had yet to appreciate the magazine on that level. Her actions were about Miranda and a commitment to her. This sank in while her mother continued.

"If you thought about it long enough, which I'm sure you haven't," she winked, "you'd know she understands you better than you understand yourself. How else could she anticipate your every move, your every need? For heaven's sake, Miriam, she trumped all of your husbands."

Miranda spent so much time focusing on the negative feelings and reactions Andréa caused that she had almost missed the positive ones. Almost, because she had noticed the calmness, the approval, the desire to smile and these drove her crazy with confusion. Somehow, Miranda, with her ability to read people, situations and, of course, clothes better than anyone else, had missed something very important. If she were to believe her mother she had misunderstood what was driving Andréa. She still hadn't figured out why Andréa's departure (or the mentioning of her in conversation) had hurt more than Stephen's ever could. So, she had just stopped thinking about it; there were always more important things to focus on.

"Part of you knew." Her mother's gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts. "You may not have understood her motivations, but you were witnessing the result. She would have given you anything you asked and at that moment on the stairs, you were tempted to ask. That's why you demanded the final Harry Potter manuscript. You wanted to end it before it needed to be acknowledged."

"I have never dealt with confusion or uncertainty well. She was all of that and more wrapped in a neat little package that I had to look at day in and day out. I couldn't simply fire her. I needed a reason and I had so many already. I thought..." Miranda shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. "She was utterly dejected and I had to actively ignore it. She would fail and I would never have to deal with her again. Instead, the universe laughed in my face and she won over my girls."

"Maybe the universe wasn't laughing, Miriam, it was trying to tell you something. Something you continue to refuse to listen to, but that's why I'm here." She reached over, brushing a white lock back behind Miranda's ear. "But, now that you have brought up Caroline and Cassidy, I have some more questions."

Miranda was pretty sure she did not want to hear anything her mother was about to say.

"How many other assistants did their homework? How many others had access to them? Would you allow Emily to chat with them when she dropped off the Book?" The smile that graced her mother's lips told Miranda that she understood and was not holding anything against her. There was no judgment, just the gentle pushes that only her mother could give.

"None."

"She was the only one you ever let in. She fell completely in love with you that night in Paris."

Miranda huffed. "I assure you, my frumpy and wretched state could have caused no such thing."

"No, but your complete honesty and trust did."

Miranda was now looking at her mother as if she had grown a second head. Her mother waited for the two heads to merge into one; she waited for her only daughter to understand. And she knew the moment Miranda caught up because her breath hitched and her eyes widened. She let go of her daughter's hand and draped her arm around her, pulling her close into a seated half hug.

"Care to share?"

Miranda's voice was almost nonexistent, as if speaking it held more power than she could handle, "If it were anyone else - Emily or Nigel would have been immediately dismissed." She scoffed, looking across the room. "If it were Caroline, Cassidy, or Stephen I would have distracted them until they left." Miranda's head was moving side to side, in tandem with the circles her mother drew on her back. "But no, those huge browns eyes walked in asking all sorts of quiet questions, but were still willing to allow me to pretend nothing was wrong." Miranda sat up, "That was it, wasn't it? She wasn't going to push. She saw and respected what I wanted while offering to help and that made me want to tell her all the more. Not to mention I knew it'd never leave that room."

Somehow, everything Miranda had been missing came together, the last pieces were placed in the puzzle and the image was clear and complete. She was in love with the smart, fat girl. And when she looked to her mother she was greeted to a tender loving smile. She shook her head, feeling as if she didn't deserve it, any of it. "I couldn't see what it meant, couldn't handle what it might have been and I drove her away."

"And now that you understand, I'm sure you'll think of a way to bring her back." She kissed her daughter's forehead, "But right now, you have to wake up. Your alarm clock seems quite insistent."

"But -"

"No buts. Time to start the day."

Miranda closed her eyes and tried to hold on to the feeling of the hug, but as her mother had pointed out her alarm clock was quite insistent. Using as little movement as she could, Miranda smacked the machine, stopping the noise. She knew she had to get up, but instead she lay in bed, still able to feel her mother's kiss upon her forehead and warmth from the hug. She wanted to stay in the moment for as long as she could.


	2. The Children

If anyone were bold enough to ask, Caroline and Cassidy Priestly would have told them they had the best mother imaginable. A mother who made them breakfast every morning, sitting with them when she could. She watched movies with them, played video and board games, and would walk through Central Park if asked. Their mom found ways, even with her extremely busy schedule, to spend time with them and made sure they knew they were loved. Maybe their mom didn't say the words as often as other moms did, but her actions spoke clearly. Their mom showed them with hugs, kisses, pats on the back, and goodnight stories and tuck-ins. She was present for every recital, game, and performance they ever participated in. Well, she did miss that one recital, but she was stranded in Miami because of a hurricane and the girls did not hold that against her. It helped that she called and explained it to them.

Miranda, on the other hand, often questioned her mothering skills, worrying she treated her daughters too much like adults. Miranda talked to her daughters without lies or deceptions. She omitted certain details, obviously, but if they asked a direct question they received an answer. Every now and again the answer was simply, 'Hm, and why do you want to know that?' or 'Is that something you think we should be discussing at your age?' And because the girls respected their mother, they respected that answer.

If Miranda were to address the girls with her concerns, they would try to convince her otherwise. Caroline and Cassidy loved Miranda's willingness to engage them in real conversation. It made them feel special because they understood it was something very few people got from their mother. They were mature for their age, but that came from a love of reading as much as it came from their mom. Being eleven, twins, and the children of La Priestly led people to speak to them as if they were six, with kid gloves, small words, and either overt giddiness or intense nervousness. Or, even worse, people would behave like Stephen and talk at the twins, instead of to them. All of which made them even more grateful for the their mom.

Their conversations varied, but there were some themes they found themselves discussing a number of times. One such theme was the difference between needs and wants. The girls could have very easily become extremely spoiled and many of _Runway’s_ staff believed they were. Miranda worked rather hard to make sure her daughters understood that difference while still being generous. However, during the last year of Miranda's marriage to Stephen she had come dangerously close to spoiling her daughters rotten.

Miranda felt guilty about the fact the girls had to experience the arguments between herself and Stephen. After these incidents she would present them with gifts in hopes of making up for the fact that they had to overhear his pettiness and whining; in hopes of making sure they still loved her after hearing so many reasons why they should not. One time they arrived home from school to find two new charms for their favorite bracelets. Another time they got new boogie boards. Cassidy loved the random gifts.

"Why is she giving us so much stuff?" Caroline was getting suspicious. They had never received so many randoms in a single month.

"Stuff?" Cassidy smirk spoke louder than her question.

"Oh, shut up!"

Cassidy's laughter was followed by a few moments of silence.

"But, honestly, if we ask for things like this," she turned the now empty CD case around in her hands, "we'd get the wants versus needs speech."

"Yeah, and if you ask her about it, she'll think we're not grateful. Then we'd have that conversation and she'd stop giving us stuff."

After Miranda gifted them with the complete _Powerpuff Girls_ DVD set Cassidy agreed with Caroline, this was just too strange. Miranda's response was short, and seemingly simple.

"Mommy loves you and wanted to get you something special."

Caroline didn't bring it up again for almost a month, six gifts later.

"Mom and Stephen were fighting again last night."

Cassidy looked at her sister like she just lost a few points off her IQ. The twins had been together in Cassidy's room (it took three trips before Caroline would follow her back to her room) listening through the walls and commenting here and there. They thought Stephen's statements were stupid and couldn't understand why their mother quietly put up with it.

Caroline pointed to the video game box set in Cassidy's hand (they received it shortly after dinner).

"That doesn't mean -"

Caroline had cut her off by rolling her eyes and giving her the now-who's-being-stupid look. Then she folded her arms over her chest and waited.

At least two minutes passed as Cassidy lined up every gift they had received in the last six months with each of the arguments she could remember. The silence was only broken when she let out a small, "Oh."

Now, a month later, Stephen was on a roll. They had been fighting for over an hour when Cassidy came into Caroline's room.

*I can't sleep.*

*Me either. I wish they'd stop.* Caroline replied, making room on the bed for her sister.

*Yeah. Stephen seems really mad this time...*

*He's always really mad. Mom should have just met him for dinner.*

*Really, Caroline?*

Caroline sighed. *Okay. Fine.*

They heard Stephen's voice stating that their mom couldn't love him anymore because she didn't have room in her heart for anything other than _Runway_.

*She has room for us. How come he always ignores that?* Cassidy asked quietly, knowing her sister didn't have an answer.

Cassidy rolled over, *Let's go to my room.*

Cassidy didn't like Caroline's bed, she thought it was too soft. Caroline wasn't as picky, but usually put up a fight because she could. Cassidy would not be able to sleep tonight, not alone; while Caroline only needed the immediate noise to stop. Tonight, however, she didn't say a word. She just grabbed her favorite teddy bear and followed her sister out into the hall. The words were more muffed in Cassidy's room.

As they walked past the stairs they heard the front door open. Stephen just kept right on talking. Cassidy looked up to see if her mother would acknowledge the entry. When she didn't Cassidy joined her sister and watched the brunette, one of her mom's assistants, spinning in circles with the Book in one hand and the dry cleaning in the other.

Cassidy had begun speaking, she had a plan. "You know, Emily, *that's her name, right?*" Caroline nodded. "Emily usually brings the Book upstairs."

*What are you doing?* Caroline barely moved her lips. The brunette looked confused and doubtful.

*Stopping them. Just nod.*

Caroline was too shocked to do anything else. So, she nodded, barely hearing anything her sister or brunette said. And then Cassidy was dragging her into her bedroom while the brunette was making her way up stairs.

Once they were tucked away in Cassidy's room, with the door shut, Caroline turned to her sister, arms crossed over her chest. *What was that?*

Cassidy shook her head. *Listen.*

And that's exactly what they did. For twenty minutes they listened and they heard nothing. In an excited whisper Cassidy said, as loud as she dared, *It worked!*

They moved to the bed. *Yeah. It did.*

They crawled under the covers taking their usual sides, Cassidy on the right, Caroline on the left. They enjoyed the new calm for a while and Cassidy started to drift off to sleep.

Caroline was still wide awake. *You think Mom'll fire her?*

Cassidy mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. *Probably.*

*Cassidy!*

Cassidy woke a little more. *What? You asked.*

Caroline grabbed her teddy bear and started to leave, *You don't even care.*

Cassidy rolled her eyes. *What does it matter now? There's nothing we can do about it.* She grabbed her sister's hand, knowing she'd never get back to sleep if Caroline left. *Look, if we ever see her again, we can apologize.*

Caroline nodded and lay back down.

Ten minutes when by before Cassidy spoke again. *Hey, what to you think mom'll buy us tomorrow?*

Caroline shook her head, even if Cassidy couldn't see it. *Nothing if she finds out we sent her upstairs.*

*You think she'd snitch?*

*Hm, tell the truth or lose her job?*

Cassidy sighed. *True.*

The next morning their mother left for work earlier than usual and she looked pissed. Before she left she kissed the girls goodbye, saying that she had a meeting later and her assistant would meet them after school and accompany them to the train station. She ignored their questioning looks and strolled out of the kitchen.

Cassidy was snapped out of her stupor by the sound of the front door closing behind her mother. They were going over to their grandmother's after school and staying for the weekend. "Why will her assistant be taking us?"

Caroline shrugged and Kara walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning." She said in her usual cheery voice, then began gathering up the dishes.

*Couldn't Kara take us?* Cassidy was confused. Usually if their mom couldn't take them somewhere, Kara did.

If Emily were taking them to the train station, their mom would have just said so. That meant it had to be the woman from last night; the one who was doing their science project. Andréa. Caroline was thinking out loud, *I hope she's not mad.*

*Who?*

*Mom's assistant.*

*And? What if she is?*

*If she didn't tell on us yet, she could. Or she could mess up our science project.* Caroline didn't want to be doing the project herself, it was a boring assignment, but she'd rather do it herself than have this lady screw it up. They usually did their own homework, but their mother said something about testing Andréa's self-proclaimed intelligence.

*Naw, mom would fire her.*

*What if she already did? We'd have to make that stupid diagram.*

*Naw. Mom wouldn't let some newbie take us anywhere.*

*True.*

*Hopefully, mom'll wait til she finishes our project before she fires her.*

Andréa was already at the townhouse when the girl's arrived home from school. They ran upstairs before she could say anything; grabbing their NDSs and games for the train ride.

"Are you young ladies ready to go?"

Caroline and Cassidy could tell she was still bitter about last night. Cassidy shrugged, if the woman had known her job there wouldn’t have been a problem. "Yes," she replied, "our bags are in the closest with the dry cleaning."

She smirked and Andy thought, this must be the girl who did all the talking last night. The other girl let out a half giggle, but quickly stopped when Andy made eye contact with her. Andy gave a hollow, fake laugh of, "Ha!" and turned back to the girl who had spoken. Her smirk was gone and Andy was reminded that these were kids, not demons. They had learned from their mother that mocking someone was an acceptable defense mechanism. She sighed. "Well, go ahead and grab them, Tom's waiting outside." Then she turned on her heel, opened the front door and waited.

She watched the girls hesitate and eye the closet. If they were expecting her to play bellhop, they were mistaken. Andy attempted to mimic one of Miranda's stares of impatience, a couple levels below ice. It did the trick. They blinked into action, removing their bags and following Andy to the door. No one said a word.

As Andy armed the alarm system and double checked the doors, Tom walked up to the twins, took their bags and placed them in the open trunk. Andy held their car door open and slid in after them.

Andy had to say something. These girls looked as if they were over it, but she was not. "That was a really crappy thing you guys did last night. Your mother is now hell bent on firing me."

"Sorry about that," said one of the twins with what sounded like genuine remorse. The voice was shy and her blush was a tad deeper than the talkative twin's. This was the first time this girl had spoken since Andy arrived. She knew it was not the talkative twin because the girl’s eyes were a pinch lighter, her voice was slightly different, and she held herself differently. All of these differences were small enough for Andy to think they were confused quite often.

Andy huffed. If these girls had any other of Miranda's traits, she knew that was as good as an apology got. She couldn't find a reason to hold a grudge, so she accepted it with a nod. "Well, thanks to a friend, I think I survived this round." She bent over slightly and reached into her bag, pulling out two books, which looked handmade. "Why would you even do something like that?"

The Talker (as Andy had dubbed her) had a stronger than expected voice, there was no regret in it. "We were tired of it. They had been going at for over an hour. We couldn't think of any other way to take them stop. You walked in and seemed like such a perfect plan. We didn't really have time to think about what could happen to you."

Andy did a slight double take, amazed at how this girl carried herself. She spoke like Miranda and had the eyes to match. The quiet one had a lot of Miranda in her, too, but she seemed like a shier, calmer version of Andy's boss. A few different responses ran through Andy's mind, none of which seemed worth stating, then she acquiesced, "I guess I can understand that. I never could stand it when my parents fought, either."

"Stephen is not our parent." The Talker left no room for disagreement and again Andy had to remind herself she did not need to fear these children. Not after the last twenty-four hours. Andy had looked the Devil in the eye and weathered the storm. She shall fear no evil. (Not that she still looked at her boss as evil.) "And she couldn't have been that mad, Andréa. She didn't fire you."

"Call me Andy." The girls rolled their eyes (Yup, these are Miranda’s kids) but nodded. "And hopefully I’ve kept my job by getting you copies of this." Andy held out a book in each hand. Then, in a very eerie manner, they leaned forward, took the books, leaned back, and looked down at the exact same time in the exact same way.

The Talker almost squeaked, " _Harry Potter 7_! But this doesn't come out until next year."

"Yeah, well, tell your mother that." Both girls laughed and Andy relaxed a little more in her seat. Just like that, she had decided she liked Caroline and Cassidy Priestly. She smiled as she realized she still needed to figure out which one was which. Obviously, they were not going to volunteer that information.

They arrived at the train station shortly after. Tom took the girls' luggage to baggage claim while Andy walked them to the correct platform.

"Are you going to wait with us until the train arrives," the Talker asked.

Andy smiled. "Your mother wouldn't have it any other way." She directed them to a bench and took a seat, unsurprised that they sat one on each side of her. "So," she bit her lip and looked at the Talker, "are you Caroline or Cassidy?"

The girl's eyebrow went up ever so slightly and said, "I'm Cassidy."

"Hi, Cassidy." Then Andy looked to her other side, "Hello, Caroline. Nice to meet you both." And they shared a giggle. "Now, about your science project...” She went on to explain what she had decided to do, asking if there was anything they wanted to change or add. She wasn't surprised at how smart the girls were, not with the way they carried themselves. It was clear Emily never had a real conversation with them. In the end, she figured they could probably get a better grade if they were doing it themselves. They were much closer to the material than she was. Before she could spend too much thought wondering what kind of power play this was on Miranda's part, the train pulled into the station.

Just as the girls were about to board, Cassidy turned around, caught Andy's eye and said, "We really are sorry we almost got you fired."

Andy smiled and nodded, "I believe you. Now, go have a great time at your grandmother's and enjoy the books."

Once on the train, seated, and as comfortable as they could be, Caroline looked at her sister and said, "You told her our names."

"I know, weird right. It just kind of happened."

"You think mom will still fire her?"

Cassidy shrugged. "Well, she's not fired and if she got us these, she probably won't be. The bigger concern here is our science projects. I hope she doesn't mess them up."

Caroline just shook her head and opened her new book. Her sister copied suit and they quietly read for a while before Caroline spoke again. "Do you think she'll still deliver the Book?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. I kinda like her. Maybe we can talk to her next time. Without getting anyone in trouble."

"You think mom would be okay with that?"

"Mom had her wait with us today," She shrugged. "She'd say something, right?"

"Not to us. It'd be something like, 'Andréa, you are fired.'" Cassidy did a perfect imitation of her mother.

"Why do you think she says her name like that?"

Cassidy just shrugged. "I don't know." Done with the conversation, she turned back to her book; their mom had really outdone herself this time. Caroline spent some time looking out the window before she returned to her book.

The Monday after Caroline and Cassidy returned home, Andy once again found she had company in the Priestly townhouse. This time, however, the girls were not trying to stop a fight and Andy knew where everything went.

"Thanks again for the book. It was really good."

"You're welcome, Cassidy." Andy smirked at the twin looks she was receiving, "You, too, Caroline. It really was a good a book."

"You've read it?"

"You think I went through all of that and didn't get a copy for myself? Mind you, I didn't get mine bound." She had enough to deal with when Nate found out she spent the money to get the two copies bound. He loved reasons to complain about her work, and nowadays, reasons to complain about her. Andy didn't think too hard about how much Miranda and Stephen's argument mirrored the ones she found herself participating in more and more often. Something would have to change and since she was actually quite happy with her job now, she hated to think about what that change would entail.

"What was your favorite part?" She could hear the challenge in Cassidy's voice, apparently the girl didn't believe that Andy had read it.

Ten minutes later, as Andy was walking to the subway station, she was struck again by how much she liked Miranda's daughters. She had never really thought about having children of her own (most of her focus was on the world of journalism) but she reasoned if she did, she'd be lucky if they turned out half as cool as the twins.

Caroline and Cassidy were enjoying Andy's company as well. Andy actually talked to them, quite like their mother did, honestly and openly. They didn't talk about _Runway_ or Miranda, and Andy seemed intent on keeping it that way. Nor did they talk about the fact Andy was not given more of their homework to complete. The girls assumed that she had proven herself, seeing how they got an A on their science project. Mostly they talked about school, books, and music. They did not talk about video games too much, mostly because Andy didn't have the time or money to play them.

During one such conversation, the girls found out that Andy was an aspiring journalist. They talked their mother into letting Andy help them with their larger English assignments. ("Since your assistant did such a great job with our science project, maybe she could help with our Writing class, too.") Everyone knew they didn't need any help, but Miranda was never one to deny her daughters, not when it appeared harmless.

For a little over a month, Caroline and Cassidy met Andy for some random conversation. Sometimes their ‘conversation’ was merely a wave because their mother would call Andy into the den for something or another. Andy, however, was beginning to get nervous. She knew Miranda was an extremely private person and probably would not appreciate the late night chats.

"Hi, Andy, how are you?"

“Hey, Cassidy, Caroline, I'm good." They watched as Andy sat the Book down first, before heading to the closest with the dry cleaning. "So, I have an idea."

"Okay."

"How about I give you guys my email address."

"Why would we need to email you? We see you every day."

"Well, that's just the thing, you don't see me every day. You see me every night and really, it's late, you guys should be sleeping." Both girls rolled their eyes in a Miranda-ish way, annoyed. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I love talking to you. That's why I'm giving you my email. But you really should be asleep and who knows how much longer we are gonna be able to do this before you get in trouble and I get fired."

*She's right.* Caroline knew Andy was used to their twin-speak and wasn't honestly offended by it, another reason they liked the young lady. Most people were uncomfortable with the twin's own language and assumed they were saying something awful. And, sometimes, they were. Mostly, it was a habit Caroline wasn't ready to let go of. *Mom's been in a really great mood lately-*

*-And we don't wanna mess with that.* "Sure, Andy, that would be great. Plus," Cassidy ducked her head a little, "we have been kind of tired in school lately."

"Oh, we can't have that. The two smartest girls I know need their rest. For beauty and brains." They laughed as quietly as they could, amazed their mom hadn't come out of her study. Surely, she could hear them. She could hear everything. *I wonder why she hasn't said anything.*

*Maybe she doesn't know. And it doesn't matter since this will be the last time anyway.* Caroline, who was slightly lighter on her feet, met Andy at the bottom of the stairs and took two little pieces of paper from her. She raised her eyebrow in question.

"That way you can each have your own. I don't know about you, but I used to hate sharing everything with my sister, and we weren't even twins. This is just one less thing." She shrugged, realizing only as she said it how silly it sounded. But the smile Caroline gave assured her that she had done a good thing.

Caroline and Cassidy believed their mother didn't know about their meeting with Andy, mostly, because she never said anything. They weren't sure why, but they didn't think she would be happy if she knew. So they kept quiet and sent Andy emails when something happened in school or when they started a new book. Sometimes they sent her separate emails, but mostly their emails were connected by a thread and the function of 'reply all.'

They didn't talk about the fact their mother was never home for dinner any more. She blamed it on Paris Fashion Week, but they knew it was because Stephen had tried to start a fight every time they talked. They didn't complain when their nightly tuck-in started happening after they were already asleep, because every morning their mom still made them breakfast and sat with them. They were grateful that Stephen had to be at work an hour before they had to be at school and never had breakfast with them.

For the first time, since they could remember, their mom looked really excited about Paris fashion Week. She wasn't stressed out or locking herself in her study to get work done. So, for the first time since they could remember, they were not excited to get away to their father's house. Their mom assured them they would have an excellent time. And they did.

However, when they returned it almost felt as if they walked into the wrong house, the wrong family. First, Stephen was gone. Cassidy was glad for that, if for no other reason then it meant there would be no more arguments or 'cold shoulder' tension in the house. Caroline didn't know how she felt about the whole situation, but after talking to her mom she figured it couldn't be too bad. Her mom seemed perfectly fine, even relieved, that Stephen was gone.

Second, their mom was now home for dinner almost four times a week, even if she had to leave afterwards for a function of some sort. And while she was present, she wasn't there. She barely participated in conversations. They caught her daydreaming whenever it was quiet; she was distracted and withdrawn.

After a week of slowly watching their mom become sadder, they decided to ask Andy about it. They talked about sending her an email. There was that unspoken rule about not talking about their mom or Runway, so Andy could blow off the question if they sent an email. Instead, they decided to risk it and wait for her to drop off the Book and dry cleaning.

Everyday for a week the girls waited on the stairs and each time Emily, on crutches, showed up with the Book and the dry cleaning. They had emailed Andy a few times in the last two weeks and not once did she say anything about _Runway_ or why she wasn't delivering the Book. Apparently, Andy thought they were still going to bed on time, so they didn't mention her absence.

At the end of the second week Caroline was confused. "Why were we going to ask Andy anyway? Can't we just ask mom?" 

"We could. But you know how mom is with _feelings_ ,” Cassidy made a face as she said the f-word. "She's not going to come out and say what's wrong, anyway." Cassidy stopped and thought, "Unless we're the problem?"

"Naw, we haven't done anything."

"Okay, so if it's not us, she's not going to say anything. At most, she'll say she's sorry for making us worry."

Caroline shrugged, "Worth a try. Maybe we can ask about Andy, too."

So, that night, after dinner, they made their way to their mother's study. Staying in the doorway, Cassidy spoke quietly, "Mom, can we talk?"

Miranda looked at Cassidy before turning her gaze to Caroline, who was standing slightly behind her sister. Then she stood and moved to the couch, waving the girls over. The girls took a seat, one on each side and snuggled close, silently asking Miranda to hold them. After wrapping one arm across each shoulder, she asked, "What would you like to talk about?"

"Mom, are you okay?"

"Yes, bobbsey, I am fine. Why?"

"I don't know. You just haven't seemed yourself, lately."

Miranda sighed. "I have been distracted, I'll admit." She looked from Caroline to Cassidy, meeting eyes that mirrored her own, taking a second with each girl. "Mommy is just a little worried about the press."

"Mom, we know the press says a lot of things that aren't true, they just want to sell papers." Cassidy knew exactly what Page 6 and its counterparts were saying. "We know that The Dragon Lady did not drive away another Mr. Priestly."

Caroline silently nodded.

Miranda shook her head, "Didn't I ask you to stop reading those gossip sites?"

"Yes, you did. But you also told us that the best way to defend ourselves was with knowledge. How could we prove Michelle wrong without knowing what she was using as evidence?"

Miranda squeezed her girls a little closer to herself, "I've created monsters."

Caroline laughed, "I prefer baby dragons."

They laughed and then Miranda returned to the point, "So, you girls aren't upset with me?"

"Why would we be upset when we know what they are saying is wrong? You weren't happy with Stephen, not anymore anyway. And the arguing was starting to get really bad." Cassidy paused long enough for Miranda to check in with Caroline and see her nod. "Plus, we know the only reason you stayed with him so long was because you feel like we need a father figure who's around more than dad is."

Miranda's tone changed enough for the twins to hear the surprise in her voice, "Where did you hear that?"

"I, I'd rather not say."

Miranda looked at her more talkative child, who had suddenly found the carpet to be very interesting. Then she turned to Caroline. For a moment she wished the girl would speak up because her eyes clearly said, 'just get it over with.'

The twins made eye contact and Caroline nodded. Cassidy shook her head before sighing.

"We, um, overheard you,” the floor had once again became very captivating, "talking to dad last summer."

Miranda sighed. She wished her babies knew less about what going on around them, but she was the only one to blame. Miranda was trying to decide if she should address the eavesdropping or address what they had heard when Cassidy spoke again.

"We know it was wrong, mom, and we haven't done it again." She looked into her mom's eyes, begging her to believe the words, "and we won't do it again."

"Very well." Miranda took a deep breath. She was trying to find the words to explain her actions to her daughters, but she was coming up short every time. She didn't want them to believe they needed a man to complete their family now or later, but somehow she had fallen into the belief herself. And she couldn't deny the fact that she felt a second parent would improve her daughters' lives.

Cassidy was getting a little impatient with the silence, so she ended it. "So. You haven't been sad because Stephen left?"

"No, Cassidy, I am not. You were right and now it is very clear to me that none of us were happy with that arrangement. So we will put it behind us and hope that the press will do the same." Miranda kissed the forehead of each girl. "Now, I do believe it is bedtime for the two of you. Go ahead up and get ready. I'll be in shortly to tuck you in."

"Yes, mom." As they made their way to the door, Miranda made her way to her desk.

When they got to the doorway, Caroline stopped short, almost causing her sister to run into her. *I thought you were going to ask about Andy?*

*Right.* Cassidy nodded but she didn't really want to. This question meant they were essentially turning themselves in. When Cassidy turned around she was met with her mother's blue eyes and raised eyebrow. "Well, um," Cassidy really didn't want to do this. Hopefully whatever punishment they received wouldn't be too bad. "We were just wondering why Andy wasn't delivering the Book anymore." Cassidy looked up and over her mother's shoulder.

Caroline, however, was watching her mother's face and saw the pain and grief that appeared there before she closed her eyes and forced it to become blank. She watched her mom take a deep breath and slowly exhale it.

"Andréa decided, in Paris, that she no longer wished to work for me or _Runway_.”

The girls exchanged a look before Cassidy asked, "She can still come help us with our English homework, right?"

Both girls could tell Miranda had no idea how to answer that. Miranda didn't want to disappoint her girls, but now that it was no longer a part of Andréa's job she didn't believe the young woman would. Even if she did seem to genuinely enjoy spending time with them. The whole situation was a complete mess. She sighed. "Bobbseys," her voice gave away her uncertainty.

"It's okay, mom, we understand." And they quickly made their exit. If the punishment for being up past bedtime, sneaking about the house, and talking with her assistant was not immediate, there was no need to wait around for it.

But that also meant they were not around to hear Miranda's response of, "Great. Maybe someone can explain it to me."  



	3. The Opportunity

Three weeks after Miranda's insightful dream and three months after Paris, Caroline and Cassidy were assigned a research project. They figured it was the perfect way to see Andy again. Neither girl was quick to admit it, but emailing with the young woman was not enough. They actually missed her, a new experience for the two. The only people they had ever cared about they saw daily, or monthly in the case of their father and grandmother, and they did not have a chance to experience not seeing a friend for such an extended period of time. They still emailed the young reporter on a fairly regular basis.   
  
Their mom's mood still had not improved much and Caroline was convinced it had something to do with Andy. They tried asking her, but the rules remained and Andy deflected all questions relating to Miranda or _Runway_ with a simple, "Ask your mother."   
  
"Maybe in person we'd be able to get her to say something," Cassidy said from her seat in the upstairs den, "but we'd have to ask mom, again."   
  
Caroline shook her head, "She didn't answer last time, remember, all she did was make that face. I don't think I can remember her ever making a face like that before."   
  
"What face?" Cassidy's eyebrows were now located at her hairline.   
  
"Oh, right, you were too busy looking at the floor. It was real quick--you know mom. She was like sad but angry all at the same time." Caroline stood and made her way to the movies. They were supposed to be picking one out. "Let's pick something that might put her in a good mood."   
  
"Maybe something animated?" Her sister watched as Cassidy processed the information. "There was sadness?"   
  
"Yeah, there was. What about _Up_?”   
  
"So that means she wasn't really mad at us for asking. And, no, we've seen it too many times. She didn't know what to tell us. You think they are mad at each other? We could watch _Shrek_?”   
  
"How do you always forget you hate that movie? Maybe she was just mad at Andy for quitting,” Caroline gave a muted head tilt, "and sad, too. I think she misses Andy." Caroline picked up _Despicable Me_ and showed it to her sister, "Mom likes this one."   
  
"Oh yeah, so do I." Cassidy grinned, remembering her favorite part of the movie. "But since when does mom miss her employees?"   
  
Caroline shrugged, "Since Andy," she replied, walking to the entertainment center.   
  
"Okay, so how do we get mom to allow us to call Andy, someone she is not happy with at the moment, to help us with a paper we don't need help with?"   
  
"We haven't tried pouting in a while,” Caroline reminded her sister with a smile.   
  
"It's worth a try," Cassidy shrugged. "So do we ask mom tonight, or--"   
  
"Ask me what, dear?"   
  
Both girls jumped, but Cassidy spoke, "Mom, you scared us."   
  
"Sorry, bobbsey, that was not my intention." Miranda looked from one girl to the other and nodded at the movie choice in Caroline's hand. Miranda noted that while her daughters did not look guilty, they were not looking forward to asking her about whatever it was they had been discussing. That made her uneasy. The girls had never had a problem asking Miranda about anything. While Caroline set the movie up, Miranda took a seat next to Cassidy. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"   
  
The twins locked eyes, *Yup, quick like a band-aid.*   
  
Cassidy then turned to her mother. "We were just given a research project on environmental safety, the pros and cons of windmills. We wanted to call Andy to see if she'd help us with it." She rushed through her sentence as if it were a race.   
  
Miranda could tell the girls really wanted to see Andréa. Whenever they really wanted something, they did not ask for it. Like a moment ago, they just told Miranda what they wanted to happen, something else they picked up from her she was sure. Then she realized Cassidy did not say, 'we wanted you to ask her,' which meant they were still in contact with the girl. Of course they were. Miranda heard them that night, exchanging emails and giggling. Miranda had heard them every night, but again, she didn't see the harm at the time. She couldn't decide if her daughters missing Andréa now counted as harm. Miranda looked up from Cassidy to Caroline and back and bit her cheek to not laugh. They really did want to see Andréa, and the full on double pout that greeted Miranda made sure she understood that. Miranda had never once said 'no' to the double pout, then again, they had yet to accompany it with something she wanted to say 'no' to.   
  
Miranda leaned back into the couch, pulling one leg up under herself and spoke, "I take it you still have her contact information?"   
  
Two sets of blue eyes became huge as they realized their mother knew what had gone on. They nodded.   
  
"Fine. Fine. Shall we start the movie?"   
  
The next day when the girls came into Miranda's study and Cassidy requested her cell phone and headset, Miranda did not pay it any mind. Miranda reached into her purse, found and handed off her phone; then, after a quick search of the desk's top drawer, she found and handed off the headset.   
  
The first time the girls decided they wanted to talk to their father at the same time they came into the study and asked if they could use her phone and headset to call him. They sat on the couch and huddled together. It was almost eerie--their routine--because it was exactly the same each time. Cassidy would plug the headset into the phone before handing it to her sister. She'd untangle the earpieces, giving herself the one with the mic and placing it in the ear closest to Caroline. Caroline would then take the other one and put it in before opening the phone and dialing the phone number.   
  
Today, however, Miranda looked up from her email and saw that Caroline was dialing a number from a paper Cassidy was holding for her. Miranda ran through all of the people they could have been calling, but she didn't have long to think about it. It appeared that whomever they called answered on the first ring.   
  
Miranda was still watching when Caroline gave a quiet giggle and Cassidy said, "No, Andy, everything is fine."   
  
Andréa. She had always answered Miranda's calls, right up until she walked away. Miranda had called frantic and unsure, four times after that, trying to pin-point why she was so desperate to hear the young woman's 'Yes, Miranda.' She assumed Andréa would never answer a call from her number again.   
  
"Yes, Andy," Cassidy rolled her eyes, "of course she knows. Relax." This time both the twins began to giggle. Miranda felt the urge to scold them for mocking Andréa's lack of comfort. She pursed her lips instead. Apparently, Andréa saw Miranda's phone number, answered it, and asked if something was wrong. Miranda could have spent hours thinking about the consequences of that alone, but Cassidy was still speaking.   
  
"And she's right here, do you want to talk to her?"   
  
Miranda gave her girls a glare, expressing her displeasure at the question, but they both missed it. Really, what would Andréa have to say to her? And what could Miranda say? 'Hello, Andréa. I've had the weirdest dream. My mother, who has been dead for more than thirty years, came to enlighten me. I am, apparently, in love with you. She also believes you are in love with me. Is that true?' Mentally, Miranda scoffed.   
  
"Right," Cassidy began, "well we have been assigned a research project...”   
  
Miranda heard the rest of the conversation the way other people see things out of the corner of their eye. She was completely aware of it, but it wouldn't make much sense until she focused on it completely. She was able to become lost, once again, in her thoughts. She knew already that Andréa would come. She would risk Miranda's anger to help the girls. Andréa's generosity and kindness would have it no other way. Andréa had stopped fearing Miranda and her power, at least long enough to walk away knowing Miranda's could completely ruin her future in publishing.   
  
"... windmills and their effect on the environment ..."   
  
The only concern the young woman had was no doubt related to Miranda's reaction to her appearance. Miranda had tried to let Andréa know she had moved past anger by personally sending a letter of recommendation to _The New York Mirror_. The brief letter was as honest as Miranda could be without delving too deeply into her own subconscious.   
  
She wondered if Andréa knew about Nigel's promotion and greater responsibility. She knew Andréa, Nigel, and even Emily, were still friends because her two most loyal employees whispered about the girl in front of Emily's desk. Miranda was convinced Nigel knew their every word could be heard, dropping little tidbits of information Miranda would never ask for.   
  
"... no page limit, but we need three to five outside, non-electronic resources ..."   
  
Miranda had learned quite a bit about the brunette during these conversations. Like the fact that Andréa was now single and living in a new apartment (thanks to the slightly improved pay at _The Mirror_ and a gift from her parents). She learned that Andréa loved her new job and ventured to read a few of her articles. They were not as good as the ones found in Andréa's resume, but Miranda contributed that to weak subject matter. Andréa was a very skilled writer; however, _The Mirror_ was still testing her out, making sure she was above the cut before handing her more difficult and attractive assignments.   
  
"... what about the Riverside Library?"   
  
Miranda was now trying to wrap her head around the fact that she would be seeing Andréa again. And soon. She needed to decide what she was going to say to the girl. Part of Miranda hoped she didn't have to be the one to initiate the conversation. For once, she wanted to actually be pursued; she wanted the object of her desire - the word desire distracted Miranda's train of thought.   
  
She had thought about what it could be like to be in a relationship with Andréa, but she had not dwelt on the physical aspects, not for extended periods of time anyway. Her mind had decided it was going to do just that and a mass collection of gifs paraded in front of her mind's eye, each one displaying Andréa in a different ensemble worn to work. Every morning, or if she was honest, whenever Andréa appeared in Miranda's space, the editor's eyes would rove over her assistant's body. In the beginning the perusal was followed by disdain. Really, how could someone so obviously attractive deign to walk about in such miserable excuses for clothing? On more than one occasion Miranda fought the urge to give the girl a new wardrobe, anonymously of course. Andréa's speech was persuasive, but Miranda couldn't dream of sending her out into the world representing _Runway_.   
  
"... okay ... "   
  
Miranda was eternally grateful for (and slightly jealous of) Nigel for giving the girl a makeover. The next day, when the woman entered Miranda's office, the visual assessments changed. She had begun drinking in her assistant's attire and giving her approval. She had begun living for those moments of quiet exchange. She was so caught up in her own reactions, trying to ignore the sexual charge she received from just looking at the woman, that she had missed Andréa's reaction altogether. Miranda was reminded of the phrase, 'hindsight is 20/20,' because at the time she was blind.   
  
"... so, when are you free?"   
  
But Miranda's near photographic memory allowed her to replay each interaction, giving her time to notice each smile Andréa bestowed upon her, each spread of blush that graced her cheeks, each moment of tension and--dear God, maybe mother was correct in her assumption. Maybe she wasn't in love with Miranda, but Andréa most definitely would not have minded some quick and dirty--   
  
"Tomorrow works for us."   
  
Miranda's eyes snapped up and she dropped the pen she had been fidgeting with. Tomorrow? She wasn't ready for this. Miranda could admit with ease, to herself anyway, that she was not a great romantic partner; add to that two kids, a very demanding job, and their age difference. Surely, this would end in disaster.   
  
"Okay. Thanks, Andy. See you then."   
  
Miranda's eyes traveled from daughter to daughter, her eyebrows already high in question.   
  
"She's pretty busy next week, so she's going to come over tomorrow morning." Miranda's face showed boredom, but the girls knew better. So Cassidy continued to explain, "We're going to decide on some thesis questions and make rough outlines then head to Riverside Library."   
  
"When?"   
  
"She'll be here at eight."   
  
Miranda nodded, her expression still bored. Cassidy looked to her sister, who shrugged, and said, "Can we play Wii until dinner?"   
  
Miranda checked the clock, they still had an hour before she'd make the call for Take Out Friday. "Yes, of course. I'll be up later, decide where you would like to order from." She allowed them to choose, every time, since Miranda decided all the other meals.   
  
As the girls made a hasty retreat Miranda leaned back in her chair. Tomorrow. She allowed a sigh to pass her lips and she pushed all the negative thoughts that swarmed around her away, replacing each one with something positive. Andréa Sachs was beautiful. And smart. She could be witty and her laugh was infectious. She enjoyed spending time with Caroline and Cassidy. She understood Miranda's work persona and ethic better than any of her ex-husbands. Andréa knew her better than anyone else. She even knew how to deal with Miranda's mood swings better than Nigel.   
  
Miranda remembered the only time she had seen Andréa in the last three months. It was the day after she sent the recommendation. She was both pleased and relieved to see that Andréa had not ignored all she learned at _Runway_. Granted, she was not wearing the same caliber of clothing, she no longer had access to the Closet, but she had come into her own. Miranda could tell she was now using her clothing as an extension of herself. Miranda had smiled, a full smile, at the woman's audacity, smiling and waving at the editor as if Miranda would acknowledge her. She did not. But she did acknowledge, however briefly, the calmness that settled around her.   
  
Miranda shook her head. She would not sit here, traipsing down memory lane. She had work that needed to be done. Later, after she spent some time with the girls, she could ruminate on this impossible situation. 


	4. The Call

Andy pulled the phone away from her ear and watched as the screen told her the call ended. It then proceeded to display her background image, a sky blue silhouette of a dragon on a darker blue background.

"So ..." Lily's voice pulled her from her confusion enough to acknowledge the call.

"Cassidy and Caroline."

"Miranda's kids?" Lily's eyes couldn't get any bigger if she tried. "Why are they calling you? Does Miranda know?"

Andy nodded, slowly, "Not only did she know, but she was also in the room with them or so they said."

Lily shook her head. "Why would Miranda let them call you? That doesn't make any sense."

"They have a research paper they want help with."

"Wow. And you're gonna do it?"

"Well yeah. Tomorrow."

"So eager to step into the dragon's lair." There was laughter in her best friend's voice.

Andy shot her a look; Lily knew she didn't like any Dragon Lady references.

"I know, I know. Sorry."

Lily was trying to wrap her head around the fact Andy was going to do it; Andy could see that much on her face. There was a moment of silence while she processed. "But really, tomorrow?"

"I don't have any other time this week, so why not?" There was more silence, this time Andy was trying to process. Why would Miranda approve of this? She knew the editor was not angry with her, the reference to The Mirror made that clear, but forgiving and acknowledging were two different things. The day she waved to Miranda made that clear.

"So," Lily dragged out the 'o' as she smirked, "you think you'll get to talk to Miranda?"

Andy shrugged and rolled her eyes, "I don't know, Lils." She doubted the possibility. "But even if I did, what would I say to her?"

"Well, you could start by telling her why you quit."

"I'm pretty sure she's not going to care."

Lily shrugged, "No harm in trying."

Andy told Caroline and Cassidy she would be at the townhouse at eight o'clock, so she arrived ten minutes early. She knocked on the door once and adjusted her messenger bag. Andy was hoping that once they made it to the library, she'd be able to work on her article.

Miranda opened the door and for a second Andy believed the woman looked nervous, but only for a second. Then Miranda's bored expression was in place as she stepped away allowing Andy to enter the foyer. Andy walked past Miranda and started to remove her coat when she felt the familiar touch of blue eyes on her. She turned to watch Miranda's eyes take in her coat, the color of her blouse, the designer of her belt and how it fell together with her jeans that sat inside Chanel boots. As Miranda's eyes made their way back up, Andy removed her outerwear and watched as Miranda took in her shirt, again.

Miranda's eyes finally landed on Andy's she gave one of her signature almost nonexistent nods. The younger woman could not stop the smile in her words or on her face.

"Good morning, Miranda." She ignored the lightness of her voice and allowed herself to enjoy the vision in front of her. Miranda's outfit was head to toe Donna Karan, a light grey cashmere sweater over a draped neck tank of the same color and cream slacks.

"Andréa." Miranda took a step back, holding out her hand before looking at Andy's coat. "The girls are in the kitchen finishing up breakfast."

Andy nodded as she handed her coat to Miranda, the she titled her head to the side.

"The second doorway on the right."

Andy nodded again, grateful Miranda understood the question. She wanted to continue standing there, watching, but she knew staring was not an option. Andy was almost to the kitchen when the smarter part of her lost and she stopped to turn around. By then, Miranda was done with the coat and only a few steps behind her. Their eyes met and Miranda nodded her head towards the doorway.

The girls sat on the same side of the table, their breakfast remains in front of them. Caroline still had cereal in her bowl, focused more on the fruit she was eating. Cassidy had finished everything except her fruit. They both looked up as Andy made her way into the kitchen

Cassidy bounced in her chair. "Andy!"

Caroline sat perfectly still but gave a smile similar to Andy's.

Andy's smile was radiant with just a touch of surprise. She hadn't realized how much she missed Caroline and Cassidy until that moment. She wanted to hug them, but refrained because they were still eating. Instead, she made her way to their side of the table and ruffled the red hair of the twin closest to her, "Hi, Cassidy." She moved around her, to the other girl, and rubbed the shoulder nearest, "And hello, Caroline."

Andy sat down in the chair across from Caroline and started ask the girls when they would be ready to leave when the hairs on the back of her neck stood a little straighter. She looked up to find Miranda standing in the doorway with a look that made Andy think of the words pleased, hopeful, and surprised. Of course she wasn't about to verbally ask about it, but she couldn't stop the incline of her head.

Miranda blinked and stepped into the kitchen. "Andréa, would you care for a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please." Andy's eyes, surprise adding to their color, followed Miranda across the kitchen and watched as Miranda pulled a coffee mug from the rack.

As she filled the cup, Cassidy's voice pulled her attention away. "So Andy, what's the plan for today?"

"Let's start with you telling me a little bit more about this paper."

Cassidy started to explain and Andy found herself watching Miranda again. Miranda had just finished adding cream to the cup. After she returned the cream to the refrigerator she added three sugars, stirring it before placing it in front of Andy.

Cassidy chose that moment to take a breather and Andy spoke into the silence, "You know how I like my coffee?"

Miranda just smirked. "Girls, I'm sure Andréa does not want to watch you play with the rest of your food."

Understanding, both girls stood, fed the remains of their food to the garbage disposal and placed their dishes in the sink. Once they finished, they turned and started walking towards the door.

"We're going to get our book bags," Cassidy informed her as they walked out of the kitchen.

Miranda was filling the kitchen sink with dish water, adding plates and cups to the soapsuds.

Andy sipped her coffee. "Thank you. This is good."

Miranda hummed, but otherwise didn't acknowledge Andy had spoken. That didn't surprise Andy at all, but if things continued at this rate, she would not have a chance to talk with the older woman. She didn't have much time now, but maybe she could determine the woman's mood.

"So, how are ..." Andy's voice vanished when Miranda turned around and pinned her with a glare. The young women had no idea what to say as a number of emotions made themselves known on Miranda's face. Andy never claimed to know the editor as well as her peers insisted. Everything was always just a feeling, an instinctual reaction, and this moment of understanding was no different. Andy felt, much more than understood each emotion and the events that went with them. It was as if Miranda was revisiting every moment she and Andy had ever shared and it was the longest sixty seconds of Andy's life.

The first emotions to hit her were confusion, slight disgust, and indignation. These were from the interview. They were followed by intrigue, which Andy knew was connected with her speech. There were random moments of her tenure coupled with irritation, annoyance, and mild disappointment. That was followed by the Miami Incident, major disappointment, regret, and anger. Then the impossible appeared: desire. The makeover. It was mixed with hesitation and confusion, but it was there nonetheless. There were more random moments from later in Andy's tenure, but these were associated with gratitude, appreciation, and more intrigue. When Miranda's mind travelled to Andy's first Gala, the younger forgot where she was and why. She was completely lost in the pure gratitude, and the almost trust. She wasn't ready for the surprise, true shock, more confusion, more anger from the night she delivered the Book. The delivery of Harry Potter was coupled with anger, something akin to surrender, and respect. Andy was ready for this powerful, yet silent trip down memory lane to finish, but there was one more major event for the editor to visit. Paris. The respect, trust, appreciation, and desire, everything was replaced by anger, shock, betrayal, and the feeling of being lost. Some of these morphed into acceptance, regret, and even fondness. Andy was drowning in a sea of Miranda's heart, her emotions, and she couldn't keep them straight, everything became one overwhelming ball of regret.

The last time Miranda expressed this kind of trust, this kind of openness, Andy had run. Her entire being hurt. "Miranda," she breathed, fighting to maintain her composure, "I am so sorry."

Miranda huffed and rolled her eyes, her face still open and readable. Andy's breath stopped mid-inhale, she saw Miranda's desire for her was still present. It had gone from obvious to hidden but it never vanished.

"Okay, Andy, we have everything now." Andy's head whipped around to the doorway at the sound. The twins were standing there, looking between the two adults and mumbling in twin-speak. Andy wanted more time to process, to talk, but when she looked back Miranda cleared her throat and turned back to the sink. With little choice, Andy practiced one of the many tools she acquired at _Runway_ and took every emotion she had (except for the joy of being with Caroline and Cassidy) and boxed them up to be dealt with later.

Cassidy shrugged at her sister and made her way to the table. "So here are the directions we were given."

Andy gave a small smile and took the offered paper. Andy looked over handout quickly before sitting it on the table in front of her. "Okay, before we go see what others have to say about it, why don't you tell me what you think?" She was relieved to hear her voice had returned to normal.

Miranda let the conversation move to the background, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She was almost certain Andréa understood what just happened. She was living on hope, yet again, because there was no way she could bring herself to say all of those things out loud.

The apology Andréa just offered kept spinning in Miranda's head, the voice on the verge of tears, the regret etched in every letter. She regrets leaving, but what was her motivation? Was it more than a simple apology? There was nothing to say she returned to help Caroline and Cassidy for any reason other than enjoying time spent with them. The girls didn't need a tutor. Still, Miranda was impressed with how well Caroline and Cassidy took to Andréa, by how well they worked together.

When she ran out of dishes she took a deep breath. "Excuse me for interrupting." Her politeness might have surprised Andréa, but her girls knew better. "I will be upstairs in my study. Inform me before you leave for Riverside." Then she remembered her daughters' idea of telling her something, "by coming up the stairs and into my office." Both girls gave her a sheepish grin. "I would prefer you did not take the Subway."

"Aww, Mom, we -"

Miranda narrowed her eyes and Cassidy stopped short. "As I was saying. The top drawer of the table by the front door has some cash in it -"

"Miranda, you don't -"

"Andréa, use it to take a taxi. Please." Miranda smirked at the response her polite imperative received. "And send me a text when you are returning." Miranda watched Andréa's nod and turned to her daughters. She gave them the 'behave yourselves' look before heading to her office. It might have been a Saturday, but Miranda still had a few _Runway_ items to take care of.

Almost an hour later, Andy slowly ascended the stairs, wondering how Cassidy convinced her it would best if she informed Miranda the cab was outside. Something about them having to get their things together. It was a weak excuse, but Andy was eager to see Miranda's face again before they left.

Andy opened the cracked door just enough to slide into the room, but she didn't venture too far. Nor did she spend time looking around the study, not once her eyes found Miranda. She was sitting on the couch in the corner of the room, legs folded underneath herself, reading the Harry Potter manuscript. Andy allowed her eyes to take in the editor while waiting to be acknowledged. When Miranda did look up, all Andy received was a raised eyebrow.

Andy couldn't help herself; she felt her lips form the same smirk she wore when she delivered it. "Good book?"

Miranda's face went from questioning to blank, her voice low and biting, "Did you need something?"

Andy blinked and sighed, she should have known better. Miranda did not like smug. "The taxi is out front, we are leaving now." Andy then turned on her heel and left.

Miranda could hear the heavier than normal footsteps as Andréa made her way back downstairs. Miranda slid her bookmark into place, closed the book, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Andréa's knowing smirk annoyed Miranda, making her lash out. It reminded her of one simple fact: No matter what Miranda wanted, the girl had left once and she would leave again.

Miranda leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Miriam, dear, do you really think that will accomplish anything?"

Miranda's eyes popped open. She wasn't aware she had fallen asleep. "Yes, she will walk away again. There's no need to prolong the inevitable."

Miranda's mother sat gingerly next to her daughter and studied her quietly for a few moments. "It's only inevitable if you continue to push her away." She continued to gaze at Miranda, looking as if she couldn't decide how to word her thoughts. There was a small sigh, followed by, "You held back in each one of your marriages, never giving yourself completely. Instead, you hid behind work and later, the girls. Andréa would never accept that. That was the lesson you were supposed to learn in Paris."

Miranda wanted to reply that the lesson she learned in Paris was that Andréa couldn't handle all of Miranda, not personally nor in business. How could she accept or even want her in a relationship? But her mother continued to speak, not giving her the chance to say anything.

A sad smile formed on her mother's face as she pulled her daughter into a hug, "You can no longer allow fear to dictate your actions. You cannot hold both fear and love in the same hand, Miriam."

Miranda returned the hug, wrapping herself in her mother. She couldn't help but have some fear of the girl. She had too much power over Miranda, held too much of the editor's future happiness in her hands. If Andréa walked away again, after Miranda let her in completely, she would be left with nothing but pain. She had managed the last time, ignorance could do wonders, but that wouldn't work this time around. No one wanted to end up broken, alone, and without hope.

"~The answer to the question that you're afraid to say out loud is... yes. She knows the truth of you, and she is dazzled by that truth.~" Her voice left no room for debate.

The sound of Miranda's cell phone beeping pulled her from her mother's embrace. She almost growled in frustration at returning to the waking world. She just knew her mother had more to say on the matter and she wanted to hear it.

Picking up her cell phone, she checked the time before moving to her inbox. The text message was simple: We are returning to the townhouse now. -Andy

Miranda went back to dream. When could Andréa have seen the truth of her? Was it while she was crying in her hotel room, stripped of her armor? Was it while she was securing her place at _Runway_? Or when she pushed Andréa away in the car? Had she been spotted smiling after Andréa waved that day in the street?

Andréa had seen the truth of her. Fine. But what did she think of that truth? Was it truly the reason she had returned? Miranda was annoyed, too many questions and no answers to accompany them. Although, Andréa's smile, that day outside of Elias-Clark, gave Miranda a good starting place. If that smile was as honest as it appeared, Miranda needed to find out if it's message was still relevant.

Andréa, Cassidy, and Caroline had been at the library for almost four hours. They would be ready for lunch by now. As she tried to decide on a meal, Miranda remembered yet another overheard conversation between Andréa and Emily. It provided her with the perfect idea.

She had close to twenty minutes before they returned. More if Andréa had texted her before securing a taxi. Twenty minutes would be more than enough time. She made her way downstairs grateful that her daughters would enjoy the meal as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Quote from: _Bones_ S5/E1 "Harbingers in a Fountain"~


	5. The Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short; so, I decided today would be two-for-one Tuesday. (＾ν＾)  
> Enjoy the read and I'll see ya next week.

They had been at the library for almost an hour and Cassidy was just too quiet. She seemed intent on ignoring the agreement Caroline and she made while Andy was upstairs.  
  
“So …” Caroline said, prompting her sister to start talking. Instead, Cassidy gave her sister the stink-eye. Caroline simply inclined her head towards Andy, who was looking back and forth between them.  
  
Cassidy sighed, *Really? What are you going to do when I’m not around? Mime at people?*  
  
Andy shook her head at the twin-speak and turned her attention back to her laptop and the article she was working on.  
  
*Put you on speaker phone.* Caroline produced a very Miranda-like smirk.  
  
*Whatever.*  
  
*Come on, you said you would.*  
  
*Fine.* Cassidy turned toward Andy, who seemed to once again be engrossed in whatever she was working on. ”So, what was that in the kitchen? Did mom say something to you?"  
  
"What? No. She didn't. Why?" Andy's face managed to be hard and sincere at the same time, as it always did on the rare occasions their mother became the topic of conversation.  
  
Caroline’s don’t-act-stupid face would have made Miranda proud. And Cassidy's words supported it. "Come on, Andy, when we came back in the kitchen you looked like you were about to cry."  
  
Andy sighed. "I don't know how to explain it to you, but your mom didn't say anything."  
  
Cassidy exchanged looks with her sister, both raised an eyebrow. "So what did she do?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"You said she didn't say anything. Did she do something?"  
  
Andy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Five seconds passed before she spoke, “I was apologizing for the way I left."  
  
“Oh.” Cassidy nodded, but she didn't quite understand. She felt like she was missing something.  
  
Caroline looked at Andy crossed-eyed for a second before saying to her sister, *I think she misses mom, too.*  
  
Cassidy gave a short nod before addressing Andy again, “So, are you and mom okay now?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Oh." Both girls looked awkward for a moment, neither knowing what to say next. Andy saved them the trouble of figuring it out by directing her eyes to the books in front of them before returning to the article she was working on.  
  
Miranda’s moods shifted so quickly and unexpectedly. She was polite, almost kind, in the kitchen. Then there was that, Andy didn’t know what to call it, where she was completely open just to be followed by cold distance. The woman made Andy crazy, annoyed, and confused. And Andy told her mother that last night when they talked. Her mother called shortly after Lily went home, asking if anything new was going on. Andy told her about the writing session she agreed to.    
  
“Honey, only the people we care about can elicit such strong emotions.” Her mother’s voice came unbidden to her mind. The conversation had been spinning in Andy’s consciousness since it happened.  
  
“Well, of course, I care about her, Mom.” Andy knew there was no point in saying anything other than the truth. Her mother knew her too well. “I’ve watched her work a 90-hour week and still make time for her kids, and sometimes even her husband. When is she sleeping? When is she taking time for herself? It’s just that she’s so frustratingly rude sometimes.” Andy was going to stop there, but the words just kept coming. “And she refuses to let anyone see who she really is or give her any help. Like being honest is going have people running for the hills.” Andy’s head was now in her hands.  
  
“Okay, two things,” Andy’s mother had said. “First, it’s not a question of whether or not you care. We know you do. But you keep ignoring why. Secondly, Miranda has plenty of reasons to act as she does. How many times has she been married and divorced? Don’t forget that the very next day, after she gave you her truth, you walked away from her.”  
  
“Mom, I didn’t leave because she was honest. I left because she shut down. What kind of relationship can I have with someone who is going to shut me out whenever things get tough?”  
  
“I thought we were talking about work?”  
  
“Mom…” Andy sighed. This was the strangest conversation ever. Somehow their discussion had gone from Andy helping Caroline and Cassidy with a research project, to revisiting the idea that 11 year olds made the best grandchildren, and ending with Andy’s feelings for Miranda.  
  
Her mother waited quietly while Andy tried to figure out what she was trying to say, grateful her articles never caused this kind of stress. “Mom, I am talking about work. Without open communication no relationship can succeed, not a working one, not friendship, and definitely not a romantic one. I mean, look at what she did to Nigel! Sure, she made up for it, but even a five-minute conversation with the man before hand would have saved a lot of people a lot of stress, including herself. If that’s how she behaves with a friend, someone she’s been working with for over fifteen years, no wonder she’s been divorced three times.”  
  
“Andrea Rene Sachs, I’m surprised at you!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Saying the woman deserved three divorces. No one deserves that. Maybe if her husbands were honest with themselves none of that would have happened."  
  
"Okay, you have a point. But maybe I'm being honest with myself when I say it's not worth it."  
  
"Honey, love is always worth it. And since when do you run away from a challenge?”  
  
“Mom this is not a challenge, it’s a suicide mission!”  
  
“Honey, look at what happened while you were working at _Runway_. Look at how hard you worked to become the best. I know you can’t think you worked so hard to find Miranda a flight out of Miami because you thought you were going to get fired? I mean you were so focused you slammed your father’s nose in the cab door.”  
  
“That had nothing to do with getting fired. Well, maybe a little. But I knew how bad Miranda wanted to get home for her girls’ recital. That was the only one she had missed in almost two years.”  
  
“And you are going to have to accept why that was important to you. Why it’s still important to you.”  
  
Andy sighed for the fifteenth time since this twenty-minute conversation had begun.  
  
“And what about Harry Potter,” her mother continued, “that had nothing to do with _Runway_. That was all about Miranda.” She paused for second, “And her girls.”  
  
At this point Andy decided it was best for her to just shut up and listen. Everything she said was just helping her mother’s point.  
  
“Honey, you started seeing Miranda as more than a boss when you changed your wardrobe. You can’t change the way you feel, despite how hard you’ve been trying. Maybe you ought to try embracing it.”  
  
“Sure, Mom, why not start a dance with a dragon. The worst that can happen is that I’ll get burned.”  
  
“Why are you so hell bent on focusing on the worst that can happen? Why not take a moment to think about the best that could happen?”  
  
“What? Do you mean the part where you get grand-babies?” She didn’t want to snap at her mother, but this conversation had begun to test her nerves.  
  
Andy heard her mother take in a large quantity of air and slowly release it as a sigh. “Yes, I want grandchildren. Sue me. But even more than that, I want MY baby to be happy. And whether or not you want to admit the possibility of happiness with her is irrelevant. You are in love with this woman. And, as crazy as it might seem to the rest of the world, she could make you happier than you ever imagined, but only if you decide it’s worth a second chance. Burns heal, but regrets hurt forever.”  
  
Her mother paused, but not long enough for her to get a word in. “And on that note, I’m going to let you go. We both have to be up pretty early tomorrow morning. Think about it. Sleep on it. And decide if you want to spend the next God know how many months the same way you spent the last three. I love you, honey, and I only want what’s best for you.”  
  
“I know, Mom. I love you, too. And I’ll talk to you later.”  
  
*She is completely tuned out.*  
  
*Yeah. Too bad you aren’t allowed drinks in here.* Cassidy giggled at the thought of bringing Andy back to reality with a cup of cold water, but their nonsensical words were enough.  
  
“So how’s it coming?”  
  
“Pretty good, we only need one more reference a piece. Then we can start our rough drafts.”  
  
“You girls work pretty fast, don’t you?”  
  
They laughed. “Well we do try. Do you think we should start writing them here or wait until we get home?”  
  
“Well, it’s just about eleven now. Why don’t we see how much more you can get done by noon?”  
  
Both girls shrugged, “Okay.”  
  
Andy went back to her article, finishing it about five minutes later. When she looked over at the girls she saw they were still working. Instead of disturbing them, she fell back into her thoughts.  
  
How could she express her feeling to Miranda, of all people? Miranda never discussed feelings. Even under extreme duress it was like pulling teeth. This morning in the kitchen was a prime example of that.  
  
She could corner Miranda, tell her why she quit, and then disappear for a bit, giving the woman time to think about what she heard. Andy's face scrunched. There were too many problems with that plan. Cornering Miranda was never a good idea, but she needed to make sure the woman stayed put until she finished talking. And disappearing for a week, that's just as bad as leaving again, wasn't it? Not to mention she had no idea what she would say to the woman. Andy mentally shrugged; it was the only plan she had.  
  
Instead of focusing on the plan as a whole, Andy's mind zoomed in on the 'speech' part of it and she began to plan out the what and how of what she would say. When she was confident in her choices she nodded and her eyes focused on the library around her. She had almost forgot where she was and must have looked a little lost, too. Caroline was giving her a very inquisitive look, something along the line of ‘You are acting strange, are you alright?‘ Andy tried to reassure her with a smile and chastised herself for making the girls worry.  
  
“We finished our drafts and it’s almost twelve thirty.”  
  
“Oh, okay. I’ll call a taxi now. You start getting your stuff together.” She pulled out her cell phone and sent Miranda a text before calling the cab company. 


	6. The Chat

Miranda was plating the last sandwich when she heard a knock at the door. She returned the pan to the stove, moving the soup to a different burner and turned off the flame. Miranda checked her watch. She wasn’t expecting anyone, though Andréa and the girls should be back any moment. Realization hit her before she made it to the front door. She rolled her eyes as she turned the knob, “What was the point of requesting a key to our home if you are not going to use it?”   
  
Both girls looked down and Cassidy mumbled, “Sorry mom, we forgot.”   
  
"Well, let’s not just stand in the doorway." Miranda motioned for the girls to enter, "Go get cleaned up, lunch is ready." As the girls made their way into the house, Miranda made eye contact with Andréa, "You are staying for lunch."   
  
Andy gave a quick, confused smile and said, “Yes, Miranda,” before she made her way to the front closet. After depositing her laptop bag and coat, she turned to find Miranda had shut the door but had not moved away. Andy could feel the tension radiating from the older woman and wanted to ease it. Andy remembered from her time at _Runway_ , that smiling seemed to help with that. So she smiled and her eyes shone with it.   
  
Miranda inhaled sharply, some of the tension draining and spoke, “Andréa. I—” Miranda stopped speaking when Andy took a step closer, into the outer circle of Miranda's personal space. Andréa’s smile changed, but her eyes remained bright and Miranda found she couldn’t look away.   
  
Miranda blinked, twice. “I’m sure you want to clean up as well.” Andy nodded. “There’s a restroom next to the den, second door on the right.”   
  
Miranda watched Andréa nod for the second time, and then she watched her backside as she made her way to the restroom. She looked up as she heard the girls come down stairs, a little surprised that her moment with Andréa lasted long enough for them to put their things away and wash their hands. Once they reached the bottom, Miranda placed an arm on each shoulder and squeezed them close. “You two must be hungry. Come along now.”   
  
"Grilled Cheese?" Cassidy’s voice was laced with astonishment as she took in the table setting. While she and her sister loved their mom’s four-cheese sandwiches, Miranda rarely made them, stating they were a far cry from the healthy food girls their age should be eating.   
  
Miranda merely nodded and made her way to the stove, grabbing the pot of soup and transferring the hot liquid into a tureen.   
  
Once the girls were seated, Cassidy looked around, “Where’s Andy?”   
  
"Right here."   
  
Cassidy turned back to what had been an empty doorway, “Oh.”   
  
Andréa made her way to the empty seat across from Caroline.   
  
*You think she knows?* Caroline slid her eyes to her sister. Andy had, for the second time that day, left Miranda’s preferred seat empty.   
  
Cassidy shrugged. *How would she know? It’s probably just a lucky guess.*   
  
Caroline wasn't convinced. *That's the second time.*   
  
Cassidy's face lit with slight recognition and confusion, then she shrugged again.   
  
Starting with Caroline’s bowl, Miranda made her way around the table filling each of them with soup. Cassidy looked up as her bowl was filled and found Andréa staring at her sandwich.   
  
Cassidy smiled, “Mom made grilled cheese.”   
  
Miranda met Andréa's eyes, and with the smallest smirk added, “And tomato soup.” Miranda’s eyes flashed a deep blue of amusement, “Is that acceptable?” Then she poured the brunette’s portion.   
  
Andréa's only response was a smile. Miranda ignored the moment of weakness in her knees and began filling her own bowl. Everyone was quiet as Miranda placed the empty serving bowl into the sink. She turned and her gaze fell once again to Andréa grinning at her. Once she was seated, spoon in hand, the twins dug into their meals. Andréa waited, watching Miranda until the older woman nodded her head towards Andréa's meal.   
  
After Andréa took the first bite of her sandwich, she turned to Miranda with a smirk, “Yes, Miranda, this is beyond acceptable. It’s delicious.” Then she looked down at Miranda’s plate, which held only half of a sandwich. Andréa's made eye contact with the fashion queen and silently questioned it.   
  
Miranda was only slightly surprised when Cassidy answered for her, and the bit of surprise came only from the fact that Cassidy managed to see the question given that she was intently enjoying her soup, “Mom never eats all of her food. So she makes herself less.”   
  
"Unless, of course, the food is steak," Andréa added with a smirk.   
  
Miranda nodded, “But, of course.”   
  
Light giggles were heard from all but Miranda, who just smiled. The next couple of minutes passed in relative silence, with Miranda and Andréa catching each other’s eyes.   
  
"Really, Miranda, this is wonderful. Four-cheese toasted sandwiches with herb and garlic tomato soup? Who would have guessed?"   
  
"The girls enjoy them as well. A few carbs never killed anyone."   
  
"Ha!" Andréa bit back the fullness that could be her laugh. "Why today?"   
  
Miranda made no attempt at answering that. Her eyes went back to her soup and the tiniest bit of color could be seen on her cheeks.   
  
"Miranda?" She waited until the woman looked at her again, "How did you know?"   
  
"It wasn’t that hard to deduce." Her tone felt harder than her eyes, "Plus, I know more than you would imagine." Miranda teased.   
  
Miranda teased! Andy’s eyes would soon permanently be the size of saucers if she wasn’t careful.   
  
The twins had never seen such an exchange between their mother and anyone before. There was something about the quality of her voice and the way the adults looking at each other. It made them a little uncomfortable.   
  
Caroline opted to put a stop to it. *Tell mom about our research.*   
  
And off Cassidy went, explaining everything they learned at the library.   
  
Miranda gave the girls as much of her attention as she could muster. She could not give them all of it, however, because Andréa would join in the conversation every now and again with a comment or a laugh, and Miranda would find herself looking at the young woman, fighting to pull her attention back to Cassidy.   
  
It wasn’t always this hard to be in a room with Andréa. Then, unbidden, a voice similar to her mother’s spoke. _Yes, it was. However, at work you had more than two eleven-year-olds competing for your attention._ Miranda fought a sigh and realized her daughters had finished eating and Cassidy was now looking at her strangely.   
  
"We are going to start our second, and maybe final, drafts."   
  
Andy looked amused as she turned from Miranda to Cassidy. “Okay, I’ll be up in a little bit to see what you have.”   
  
The girls stood, grabbed their dishes and rinsed them in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher. The two adults continued their meals in silence, the exchange of laden looks continued and Andy tried to pinpoint exactly what they were laden with.   
  
Andy had tempered her speed to match the fashion maven’s and they completed their meals at almost the same time. Andy looked from Miranda to her plate and back to Miranda, asking if she could take care of them. When Miranda nodded Andy smiled and gathered their dishes. Following the twins’ example, she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.   
  
Andy leaned against the counter and met Miranda's eye. She couldn't remember where she planned to start her speech. Looking into Miranda's eye made the urgency of expression go up a few notches, but Andy's IQ had dropped a few levels.   
  
"Let’s go to the den." Miranda cut her off and walked to the den with Andréa trailing behind.   
  
Miranda tried to maintain her bored expression, but she was appalled with herself, a master of the spoken word, sitting here speechless. Her finger circled the rim of her glass, Pellegrino bubbling under her fingertips, looking everywhere but at the brunette across from her. She knew the discussion needed to happen, but how to start?   
  
"So," Andy was on the couch, while Miranda was sitting in her favorite armchair. "What do you want to know?"   
  
Miranda raised an eyebrow.   
  
"I can see you thinking," so much to say and nowhere to start, "so I thought it might just be easier if I gave you a freebie. Unless you want me to start?" Andy was fairly certain she had no idea which Miranda would choose, but they only had but so much time before the twins finished their drafts. They had already wasted ten minutes staring at each other in silence.   
  
Miranda waved her free hand, almost dismissively, towards Andy, indicating that she should begin.   
  
"You couldn’t make this easy by just asking a question, could you?"   
  
Miranda narrowed her eyes at the brunette.   
  
"Okay, okay. Fine. So, I’m working at _The Mirror_ , now. Thank you for the—” Andy stopped as she watched Miranda’s lips become a fine line.   
  
"Why are you here?"   
  
Andy’s forehead furrowed. “Because the twins asked me to come.” Andy knew she wasn’t answering Miranda’s real question, but she wasn’t ready for that, not yet, so she continued on before Miranda could say anything. “You know, they really are good girls. Even if they almost got me fired.”   
  
Andy couldn’t ignore Miranda’s silent question. “Well, they were the reason I went upstairs the first time I delivered the Book.” She could tell this was news to Miranda. “Don’t be mad. The girls love you, Miranda, and they want to see you treated with kindness and respect.” Andy’s untouched Pellegrino became very interesting. “So when they heard me come in, they thought it was the perfect way to get Stephen and you to stop arguing." She shrugged. "It worked.” She dared a glance at the editor, who was wearing the same expression she had that night. “They told me the next day it had distracted you both, though I doubt at the time they realized you would take it out on me. And they apologized." However, _Harry Potter 7_ knocked the ‘sorry’ out of them pretty quickly.   
  
Miranda's lips were pursed. She knew the girls could hear Stephen and her argue, but she forced herself not to think about it beyond that. Because, honestly, what could she do? She could control the man’s behavior no more than she could control the imbeciles who worked for her.   
  
"And plus," Andy paused, wondering if she should even continue. “Plus, I made two new friends in the end.” When Miranda’s eyes snapped up at this, she gave her a wobbly smile.   
  
"Right, because that was when you decided that speaking to my children every night was a good idea."   
  
"You—," Andy blushed, "You knew about that?"   
  
Miranda placed both hands on the arms of her chair, leaning forward ever so slightly while tilting her head to the side, her movements an exact copy of that day. She didn't have to say a word, Andy still heard it loud and clear. _If you think I didn't know you were talking with my children you must have fell down and smacked your little head on the pavement._   
  
Andy gave a self deprecating smile, spinning the glass in her hand. "I assumed you would have said something, put a stop to it, if you had known."   
  
Miranda leaned back into her chair and crossed her legs at the knee. "Yet you still did it."   
  
"Wait, what? No." It came out sounding like one word. "I don't mean I thought it was wrong. I just mean when do you ever keep quiet about something that displeases you? And when have you ever been predictable about what that thing might be?" Andy's face was now flush with embarrassment and anger.   
  
"Calm down." Miranda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "If I had a problem with it, you would have known."   
  
Andy breathed out loudly and they sat there, awkward and silent, listening to the tick of Miranda’s clock, both wanting to continue the conversation but not sure how. It felt like an hour past before Miranda broke the silence. “They enjoy spending time with you, speaking with you.”   
  
"Yeah, so do I." The smile that followed convinced Miranda of Andy’s sincerity.   
  
Andréa put her glass down and started pulling at her fingers. "Miranda, how long has Cassidy been speaking for the both of them?"   
  
Miranda had wondered if Andréa had noticed that. Most people did not. “Caroline started speaking less when I divorced her father. It seemed that as our relationship weakened so did her voice.” Miranda’s eyes grew wider for just a second, as if she were surprised by her own words, but she kept going. “Things became very ugly very quickly, and neither of us understood soon enough to do anything. However, she is,” Miranda searched for the right word, “improving,” not particularly caring for that word, “at a significantly slower rate than we would have liked.” Miranda paused, locking eyes with Andy, who made sure no judgement could be found, not that she had any.   
  
Miranda took a few moments before she continued. “Their therapist believes it was caused by the lack of security and consistency caused by the divorce. He has no real proof, however, since Caroline doesn’t seem to realize that she’s changed.”   
  
“And I imagine they have joint sessions, which would make it slightly more difficult for him to pin-point a cause, since Cassidy would be doing most of the speaking.”   
  
Miranda’s head tilted to the side as she took Andréa in. How was it that Andréa seemed to understand something Greg to this day could not? He claimed it was an excuse, a cop-out because the therapist couldn’t find a suitable answer.   
  
“Miranda?”   
  
The older woman blinked at the nervousness in Andréa’s voice. Andy was worried she had crossed a line. Miranda wanted to laugh—as if there were any lines left! “Correct. But we have seen wonderful improvement this year. Cassidy ensures me that she is much more free with her expression when it is just the two of them, so her natural shyness masks some of that progress, but—“   
  
“You still live on hope.” Andréa’s eyes were teasing and Miranda, grateful for the levity, felt herself give a small smile.   
  
Andy watched the tension in Miranda’s body slowly increase as she spoke and wanted to alleviate it. She was relieved when her small joke was accepted for what it was and decided it was a good time to change the topic. “At least she has other ways to express herself. Are they still playing piano?”   
  
“For the time being, yes. Although, I have been informed that Caroline would like to switch to the flute.” And with that, they settled into a safer topic: her daughters’ hobbies and interests.   
  
Andy didn’t want to become a passive member of the conversation but it was hard not to fall into the smooth cadence of Miranda’s voice. Andy missed a few good chances to add something to the dialogue, lost in the sense of safety and peace Miranda’s voice always gave her (when the editor wasn’t verbally tearing someone to shreds, that is). However, she knew enough about all three Priestlys to make valuable additions to the conversation.   
  
The conversation between the two of them was easy, honest, and full of not-so-well-hidden smiles and laughs from them both. Andy noticed, and relished in the brightness of Miranda’s eyes, and decided to commit the image to memory. Neither one of them noticed how few words they needed to use. Neither one of them noticed how many sentences the other had almost completed for them. Neither of them noticed how much time had passed or how much they enjoyed spending it in each other’s company.   
  
Caroline and Cassidy were busy, these papers would be completed today. They only needed to write two to four pages. Cassidy was aiming for two and a half while she was sure her sister would have to cut stuff to keep it under the four page limit. Cassidy wasn't sure how Caroline managed to go the page limit for every single one of their assignments, but she assumed it had something to do with how much Caroline didn't talk, even if the idea barely made any sense.   
  
Cassidy was beginning to get a little restless, as cool as windmills could be, this paper was turning into a bore. She checked the clock on her laptop, they had been working for about an hour. A ten or twenty minute break wouldn't drag this assignment out too much. She opened up her web browser and logged into Tumblr, checking around the room to make sure Caroline and Andy weren't paying her too much attention. That's when it finally hit her, Andy was downstairs with their mom.   
  
*Caroline.*   
  
*Yeah?* She didn't even bother to look up.   
  
*Notice anything different?*   
  
That got Caroline's attention away from her laptop. She shrugged, *Like what?*   
  
*Where's Andy?*   
  
Andy had helped them with a number of assignments, usually much harder than this one, and every time she had sat with them, either here, in their study or downstairs in the den.   
  
*Downstairs, with mom.* It came out more like a question.   
  
*Exactly.*   
  
*You think Andy's apologizing, again?* Caroline couldn't think of any other reason Andy would be downstairs. Her mother didn't actually _talk_ to people, not people who weren't family. Mr Nigel was probably the closest thing she had to a friend.   
  
*For an hour?*   
  
Caroline looked down at her laptop's clock. *Oh.*   
  
Andy usually sat in the room with them. She also had never taken them anywhere—other than the train station. Nor had they witnessed her actually talking to their mom. Andy having lunch with them should have never happened either, but at the time it felt so familiar neither of them noticed. Caroline figured Cassidy had noticed these things, too, since she brought it up in the first place. Something was most definitely going on.   
  
Cassidy had noticed, but she was on a different track than her sister. *You think mom would let her stay, you know, after we finish our papers?*   
  
*Why?*   
  
*Dance, dance, baby!* Cassidy laughed while her sister shook her head. But Cassidy now had some real motivation to finish this paper. The prospect of a new challenge—at beating someone other than Caroline at a few of her favorite video games had her ready to go. She closed out Tumblr and reread the last paragraph she had written. Just that quickly she'd forgotten the reason she needed a break, she was stuck. What she had written so far was pretty good, but she had no idea how to transition to her next point. She sighed.   
  
Caroline looked up again, shaking her head. *Go get Andy.*   
  
*Right!* Cassidy hopped up and sprinted down the stairs. The faster this was done, the better. She was hoping Andy didn’t have anywhere she needed to be and that they could get a few games in.   
  
When Cassidy made it to the doorway of the den, Miranda didn’t even acknowledge her presence, let alone her behavior. Usually running around the house was met with some type of reprimand about lady-like behaviors and safety. Cassidy stood there for a moment, watching her mother and Andy talk, confused. It wasn’t that she wanted to be corrected, nor was she trying to upset her mother, not this time, but it was unheard of for Miranda to say nothing..   
  
Cassidy stood there, mesmerized by the conversation she was watching. She was stunned that neither one of the adults noticed her standing there, so she cleared her throat to get their attention. “Andy, I need some help.”   
  
Miranda’s head moved towards the doorway, wondering when Cassidy had entered the room. Usually, Miranda could hear every step her daughters took around the house. They made more noise than even Stephen could.   
  
“Oh, okay.” Andréa turned to the older woman with a plea on her face. Miranda ignored both her own disappointment and the disappointment in Andrea’s eyes at the conversation coming to such an abrupt end and nodded to the younger woman.   
  
“Well, their papers are not going to edit themselves.” Miranda hadn’t meant for her voice to echo Andréa’s expression.   
  
Cassidy ignored it. She walked across the den, grabbed Andy’s hand and said, “Come on, this shouldn’t take long.”   
  
Andréa shot Miranda a weak smile as she was dragged out of the room.   
  
Miranda was left with a number of thoughts rolling around in her head. Cassidy was excited, probably at the idea of video games, so there was no way she had moved quietly. Yet, Miranda had heard nothing. This was the first time she and Andréa ever had a real conversation where both of them participated and there were no hidden agendas. Andréa could still read her as well as she used to. And Miranda, who was never one for lengthy conversations, would have been fine to have it continue.   
  
Miranda was beginning to honestly believe her mother; however, she was not looking forward to having _that_ conversation with Andréa. She could only hope it would go as well as the last one.


	7. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you awesome beta lady, for continuing to help make this story better.  
> And thank you, lovely reader, for sticking with me. Hopefully, you can still see my beta's awesomeness through some last minute changes.

Caroline and Cassidy Priestly knew a little bit more about what was going on in their world than their mother would have liked. And Miranda was reminded of that, yet again, as she watched Cassidy dragged Andréa out of the den and upstairs to help edit their latest research assignment.

Miranda and Stephen had spent the last seven or eight months of their marriage in complete discord. Whenever they were in the same room together Stephen managed to raise his voice and begin insulting her. Miranda knew there was a chance her daughters could hear his words, but she tried to convince herself they heard them as background noise. She never let herself believe they could actually hear the words or their intent. She wanted to believe they didn't hear every time he called her heartless, selfish, frigid, or a workaholic who loved her job more than her family. They were all half-truths and misunderstandings, things she thought her husband, someone who knew her outside of _Runway_ , would be able to see past.

But Caroline and Cassidy had heard (although, Miranda wasn't sure how much) and at one point attempted to reassure Miranda. They had came to her study after receiving a box set of a very popular video game. In hindsight, Miranda should have known something was off, her daughters almost never remembered to knock before entering if the study door was closed (which wasn't often) and on that night they not only knocked, but they also waited for an invitation.

They entered as Miranda was saving her work and when up she was surprised to find them still standing in the doorway, holding hands. The last time they approached her like that, they had managed to accidentally dye Patricia's coat red with a bottle of dye Stephen bought for her.

Miranda was out of her seat and halfway across the room before she spoke. "What's wrong?" Her voice betrayed her suspicions. They no longer had a dog so her imagination was getting the best of her.

The girls stepped forward, meeting their mother a few steps inside the room. They were close enough to touch her, but they didn't. Instead, Caroline tightened her hold on her sister's hand.

"Mom, you don't have to give us presents. We know you love us and we love you. And nothing will ever change that."

An overwhelming sense of shame, surprise, and love were making it Miranda's eyes wet and shiny.

" _No one_ will ever change that," said Caroline.

Cassidy and Miranda turned to Caroline, surprised not only that she spoke, but also by how adamant her words were. Cassidy smiled at her sister, agreeing with her completely, before returning her eyes to her mother.

Miranda could tell they were both surprised by her tears now sliding down her cheeks, but instead of addressing them, Miranda just pulled them both into a hug. Caroline and Cassidy let go of each other's hands and wrapped their arms around her. They stayed like that, swaying in each other's arms, quietly, understanding—somewhat subconsciously—the unconditional love they shared for their family.

Miranda pulled back and touched a hand to each girl's cheek, "I believe you have new video games waiting for you. Let's not let them go to waste."

That was the last time they spoke of it, but Miranda had continued to give them seemingly random gifts, although, now there was a slightly different intent behind them. Instead of being bribes, as Stephen called them, there were a thank you.

Miranda's surprise at her daughters' actions, at the fact that they used Andréa to interrupt the argument, had dissipated much faster than she had expected. It made too much sense. Andréa's protective nature was too strong, her behavior at the Gala was evidence enough. Andréa stopped Stephen from making even more of an ass of himself, and stopped him from truly embarrassing Miranda. Emily just stood there, trying to disappear, while Andréa intervened as if it were part of her job description. Miranda sighed, the warning flag of her thanking Andréa had gone ignored.

While, Andréa would have never, on her own, attempt to invade Miranda's private space, the girls pushed it and Andréa's need to please and protect others easily overrode her common sense. If it had been Emily, she would have sped around the foyer, raced out of the house, and spent the entire ride home convincing herself she heard nothing. She even tried to warn Miranda of Irv's plot. Of course Andréa would come up the stairs even though she had to know Cassidy had been lying.

Miranda wondered if her reaction would have been any different if she knew why Andréa brought the Book to her feet. She doubted it. She still would have demanded a difficult-to-obtain gift for the girls, but maybe the cost would not have been so steep. Maybe the impossibly possible manuscript she held in her hand would not have been part of the deal.

Miranda began reading the book a month after she returned from Paris. She told herself it was because the girls insisted; they wanted to talk to her about it, like they had with all the other Harry Potter books. Miranda avoided her copy for the same reason she finally picked it up: it was Andréa's trophy. At first it stung to acknowledge the book and how she came about it. Later, instead of admitting she missed the girl, she began reading it, subconsciously recognizing it as her only link to Andréa. However, after the visit from her mother, Miranda could no longer deny the truth. There were no other plausible reasons for her to be reading it so slowly, no more than two chapters per week.

And now the girl was upstairs with her daughters. The townhouse was quiet, except for an errant giggle or two. Andréa was good at keeping the girls on task, which was much harder for them to achieve at home, with the distraction of their games and movies.

Miranda decided it would be an ideal time to do some more reading, since she still had a chapter left before she was caught up for the week. Before she began, she wondered briefly if Andréa would find a way to become a constant in her life. If Andréa would give her something to replace the book with, she'd be able to read it freely.

Not long after she started reading, Miranda heard heavy movement upstairs, leading her to believe the girls had finished their papers and started a game of _Dance Dance Revolution_. Since Andréa had not returned to the den, Miranda assumed she joined them. That particular game was always accompanied by the sound of stampeding elephants and Miranda was grateful for the sturdiness of her home.

Miranda continued to read, deciding she could do three chapters this week, as long as she didn't make it a habit. She was interrupted by the sound of one of her children running down the stairs.

"Mom, come play with us," Cassidy yelled as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. "You like bowling," she said as she entered the doorway.

"Cassidy, how many times must I tell you—"

"—that a lady never raises her voice." Cassidy started to roll her eyes but stopped herself. She could see Miranda's irritation. "Sorry, mom."

Miranda fought the urge to roll her own eyes. Her children lacked the patience to wait until they were actually looking at the person they wished to speak to and did not appear to be growing out of it. "Now then, what were you saying?"

"We are gonna play _Wii Bowling_ —" Cassidy stopped at the sight of her mother's raised eyebrow. "We are going to play _Wii Bowling_ since we finished editing. Would you care to join us?" Cassidy's voice was on the edge of sarcasm.

Miranda let that slide. "I would, but I am enjoying your ill-gotten goods." She held up _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ and smirked. However, Miranda as watched Cassidy's smile disappear along with the prospect of fun, Miranda felt a pang of remorse. It didn't linger.

Cassidy realized her mom knew what they had done. She couldn't hide the guilt on her face. She knew what she did was wrong. There was also fear in Cassidy's eyes—fear of her infamous punishments which were known to include book reports and revoked privileges. Cassidy was not looking forward to what was coming next.

"Um," Cassidy muttered.

Miranda watched her daughter search her brain for an excuse. She wondered how long it would take for Caroline to be filled in on these new developments. Maybe her daughters' paranoid waiting would be punishment enough, but they would still have a talk. Just not today. "Go on and enjoy your game. I'm going to continue reading."

Cassidy didn't have to be told twice, she raced from the room and up the steps, yelling before she made it to the top. *Andy snitched. She told mom we sent her upstairs.*

Caroline stopped mid-swing and turned to Andy. In Andy's mind commentary was provided for Caroline's expression—something along the lines of 'Oh, no. Say it ain't so.' This made her smile, which must have been the wrong response because Caroline's eyes only grew bigger. Andy shrugged. She had no idea what Cassidy had just said.

Cassidy could be heard running down the hall and when turned into the room she said, "You told on us!"

Andy blinked, "What are you talking—" Her brain started running through every interaction she ever had with them.

"You told mom we tricked you into bringing the book upstairs."

"I thought she knew."

*Is she mad?* Caroline cut in.

*She called it 'our ill-gotten goods.'*

*But she didn't say anything else?*

Before Cassidy could answer, Andy cut in. "It might be easier for me to join in if you guys use English." Both heads turned and it looked as if they forgot she was in the room. Andy almost felt bad for them, worry did not look good on eleven-year-olds. "Well, she can't be too mad, I mean, I'm still here and you two are still playing video games."

"That doesn't make it any better, Andy." Cassidy's voice was as hard as it could be, almost sounding like the day Andy first met them. "I can't believe you told on us."

"Well, I can't believe you did it in the first place," Andy said. Cassidy rolled her eyes and Andy crossed her arms over her chest only to lower them three seconds later. "Look, there's nothing any of us can do about it now. If it helps, your mom seemed more surprised than angry."

*And if she didn't say anything else—* Caroline started.

*Then maybe she won't.* Cassidy finished. The thought of being off the hook led to her next, almost honest, statement. "You're right, Andy. We can't change anything. We shouldn't have done it the first place," the desire to stay on Andy's good side led to, "and we deserve whatever consequences come our way." It was complete garbage, but since her mother didn't always call her on it she figured Andy wouldn't either.

Andy spoke through her laughter, "Wow. And I thought I laid it on thick growing up." Cassidy looked affronted. "Nice one. You had me right up to the end." Her laughter calmed and she spoke seriously, "I know you did what you thought was right. I told your mom that and that I had already forgiven you. I'm sure your mom will wanna talk to you about it later, so when that time comes just be honest."

Both girls nodded.

"And really, she'll see through that line you fed me faster than you can imagine."

"Maybe." Cassidy shrugged, her mother still hadn't seen through the line about eavesdropping. "Just didn't figure you would."

Andy laughed again and pulled Cassidy into a quick hug. Caroline looked from Andy to Cassidy and back again, looking disappointed and what Andy's mind decided was jealous. Andy realized her mistake and gave Caroline a slightly longer hug than the one she gave Cassidy.

Cassidy rolled her eyes, "Are you gonna finish your turn or what?" Caroline blushed a little and went back to her turn. She finished with a strike and just a tad more smugness than necessary.

Around six o'clock, Miranda decided it was time to begin dinner and wondered if Andréa would be joining them. At that moment, Andréa made her way into the den.

"I have plans for this evening, so I can't join you ladies for dinner. I already told the twins."

Miranda nodded, grateful that she would not have to tell them herself. She stepped forward, intent on walking Andréa to the door, when the brunette stepped directly in her path, bringing her to a stop.

"But I wanted to talk to you before I left. I need to explain what happened."

Miranda knew Andréa would want to talk about Paris at some point. In all honestly, Miranda was hoping to just let the whole thing go and she said as much. "The past is the past, Andréa, let us leave it where it belongs: behind us."

Andy shook her head and stepped even closer, stopping just outside of the woman's personal space. "No. I will say this, and you will listen." Her tone left no room for questions or contradictions, and Miranda was as pleased as she was appalled.

"How dare you speak to me in—" Miranda received a look very similar to her own, and it did exactly what it was supposed to do: shut her up.

Andy began, "Miranda, I had to leave. Look at Emily, she worships the ground you walk on. But I know that ground is faulted, full of cracks and pitfalls. I don't want to be Emily, or even Nigel rushing ahead hammering out the lumps, filling in the holes, making it as smooth as possible for you to continue along your way."

Andy shook her head at Miranda's attempt to add something. "Please, Miranda, let me finish." Her pleading voice received a tiny nod from the older woman.

"That night," Andy's eyes began traveling everywhere except toward the older woman's, "your path was completely broken and my job, as you so aptly reminded me, was to get out there and start hammering." She finally met Miranda's eyes again, blue eyes that were purposefully empty and defensive. "I realized that I wanted my job to be beside you, holding your hand and soothing your soul. I wanted to let the others deal with the road, I wanted the woman walking it."

Miranda looked into her brown eyes so intensely that Andy fought to maintain contact. It was as if she was being invaded and Miranda was crawling through Andy's sight, digging for her very soul. And when Miranda found sincerity, tender care, devotion and adoration staring back at her, her major organs decided now was the perfect time to take a three- or four-second respite.

"And then you closed up. You shut me out, making sure I knew I could never be that person. I was the assistant, less than a person. And I broke." Andy was rushing her words now, trying to beat the tears forming in her eyes. "Then in the car after the luncheon, I was able to see you more completely, more honestly than ever before. You tried to pretend you didn't care, that securing your job at the price of Nigel's meant nothing."

Andy shook her head, stepping closer, less than a foot between them now, intent on continuing her speech. "You were so hurt by everything that was going on, claiming it was nothing, like I couldn't see through that. I also understood that even if I was the best, I was still expendable. I couldn't remain your assistant. The role was too small." When she looked into the woman's eyes again, she saw they were shiny and wet, but still Miranda's face was blank. "How could I stay when I couldn't be there for you? That job left me as fulfilled as it did empty."

Andy reached out slowly and took both of Miranda's hands into her own, keeping them at the woman's side, just holding them, not denying the small smile this pulled from her lips. Miranda had gone stiff at the contact, but made no attempt to move, mainly because she didn't believe she could. Her organs, her heart, had started up again, but it had yet to return to its normal pace.

"You asked me earlier, why I was here. While my answer was honest, it was not complete. I am here because you drive me absolutely crazy. You do everything in your power to push me away and to anger me, yet you do things like make grilled cheesy carbs for lunch." Andy snorted, too hyped up for an honest laugh. "Here I am, because everything in me wants nothing more than to please you. Not that you'd make it easy and tell me what you want. No, you expect the world to read your mind and accept it. And while I'm better at it than most, I'm not psychic. I am, however, completely ensnared."

Andy gently squeezed Miranda's hands. "I am here to apologize for walking away. For giving up so easily. I am here because you need to know that I am never truly leaving again. You are worth the pain, the frustration, and the headaches. You are worth it. All of it. Because in the end, I'll be holding the hand of the woman who holds my heart."

Miranda blinked as Andréa squeezed for the second time with more pressure than the first as if pushing the words into Miranda's palm before she let go. Miranda was struggling to keep her face blank and her tears in check.

Andréa hadn't given Miranda time to do much more than blink. As she released the other woman's hands, she whispered, "I'll see you soon. Just think about it." And just like that, she turned on her heels and swept out of the room.

Miranda did not know how long she stood there, trying to figure out if she could find her equilibrium and if she even wanted to. Various parts of Miranda's life appeared in her mind, queued up and rolling like a movie. Peter, Greg, Stephen: husbands who never looked upon her with such intense purpose and desire. Random lovers and friends appeared—people who cared, but not in such a way that left her blinded. Words: ugly and loud, whispered and fake, grinned and imagined. Andréa: the first adult outside of Miranda's family to speak with such honest, guileless kindness.

Miranda was completely overwhelmed with the emotion taking over her body. Her natural defenses were looking for lies and loopholes, anything to make this less real, less powerful, and less fated. But she found nothing. Nothing to imply Andréa meant anything other than what she'd said, anything other than what she meant. Miranda would have to find a way to concede, to accept this for what it was. A love like she had never known.

Miranda did not know how much time had passed when her children entered the den. They looked confused and she realized what her face must look like. She tried to clear it, along with her throat, "Are you two hungry? I was thinking we could make pizza for dinner." Miranda remembered seeing some whole wheat pizza dough while making lunch and she was sure there were enough topping choices to appease her daughters.

"Um, sure, mom, pizza sounds fine." Cassidy sounded unsure. She and her sister exchanged a look. "Are you okay?" She remembered the conversation they had at the library, "Did Andy try to apologize again?"

"What?" Miranda was surprised at her voice.

Cassidy flinched a little at the sound. "This morning, before we went to the library, Andy looked like she was going to cry. When we asked her about it she said you didn't say anything—that she was trying to apologize for how she left." Cassidy only stopped to take a breath and Caroline simply nodded. "You were just making the same face she was. Was she apologizing again? Is that why you look like you're gonna cry?"

Miranda was momentarily at a loss for words. She simply nodded.

"Um, okay." Cassidy then asked her mother the same question Andy couldn't answer. "So are you and Andy okay now?"

Miranda released a breath of air that almost sounded like a chuckle, "Yes, honey, I believe we are 'okay' now."

"Cool." Cassidy turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to her mother. "Does that mean we can, like, hang out with her now?"

Miranda crossed the room to where her daughters stood. "If Andréa would like to spend time with you, I see no problem with that." She put a hand on each girl's shoulder. "Now, how about dinner?"


	8. The Reconnect

Andy shook as she walked out of Miranda's townhouse, surprised not only by the weakness of her legs, but also by the emotional strength it took to leave. She had purposely left without giving Miranda a chance to say anything. Miranda was ruthless when caught off guard and Andy didn't want to deal with her immediate reaction. Miranda hadn't looked as if she could have spoken even if given the time. Andy didn't know if that was in her favor or not. Nor was she sure if Miranda's failing attempt to keep her face blank would work in her favor.

Miranda was an expert at keeping any and all emotion off her face, a mask of irritated boredom keeping her hidden from the world, but Andy had seen Miranda fight to maintain her composure, almost as if she couldn't decide which emotion to lead with, twice. The first time accompanied the delivery of the _Harry Potter_ book. Miranda thought she was forcing Andy to leave with an impossible task and when things didn't go as planned Miranda fought to keep her reactions internal. Andy was able to pick up on a few of them (surprise, respect, a bit of pride) but she still, to this day, had no know idea what those reactions meant in entirety.

The second time had been just now, which was what made Andy think of the first. Miranda had no idea how to feel about Andy's speech and it showed. Miranda's confusion was the first and loudest emotion to escape the mask. The rest of them moved so quickly, one after another, Andy wasn't able to intuit the emotions Miranda was fighting.

She was torn between giving Miranda the time, the space, to process and going back into the house to ensure Miranda made the right decision (or the decision Andy wanted to hear). But Andy had made her plan, as flawed as it was, and she was going to stick with it. Following her instincts was the only reason she lasted at _Runway_ for as long as she had.

The fact that she had dinner plans already, long standing plans on top of that, made her decision that much easier. As she made her way to the subway station Andy couldn't help but dwell on the impossibleness of the day (she was also starting to question her use of the word).

Andy tried to figure out what could have made today even remotely possible and her brain settled on Paris Fashion Week and the events that followed. She remembered that, on the plane, she had had no idea what to feel, so she took an inventory, hoping the 'right' emotion would make itself known. She was excited to be leaving the country for the first time in her life—even more excited that she was going to Paris, of all places. She was getting paid to go to Paris. She jumped a little in her seat and ignored the side-eye she got from Miranda.

Miranda. She was going to be spending even more time around Miranda this week than she had to date. There was pride, a sense of accomplishment, and some anxiety that settled around that knowledge. But Andy had done her homework and she was fairly confident there was nothing she could do to screw this up. She would continue to be the best assistant Miranda ever had—and she would have never known she held that title if it weren't for Emily's jealousy and Nigel's honesty.

Andy wanted to feel smug about her place at Miranda's side, but thoughts of Emily's hospital bed speech surrounded her sense of accomplishment with remorse. She couldn't fight the fact that she felt she had betrayed Emily.

Nor could she ignore the fact that she felt she had betrayed Nate and their relationship. But, in this, she realized, she was partly to blame. Nate had done his share to destroy their relationship and Andy quit fighting to save it. She stopped trying to be home at a decent time, stopped making up excuses, stopped trying to appease him or say what he wanted—or needed—to hear. It had become too easy to ignore their relationship and focus on work. She no longer wanted to be with Nate, and her growing feelings for Miranda were not the only reason. Andy didn't even believe Nate wanted to be with her anymore.

Which brought her to Christian. He seemed to be the only person in Andy's world who did want her—who wanted her and was unafraid to show it. Andy didn't want to be with Christian, but it felt good to be wanted, accepted, and made worthy. It was a feeling she no longer experienced on a regular basis. And, hey, there wasn't any real harm in flirting.

Well, there was no harm in flirting with someone who was not your boyfriend when your best friend was not around to see it. Lily had walked over as Andy was laughing at some stupid, not-so-funny thing Christian said before he leaned in and gave her an air-kiss. Of course, Lily blew the whole situation out of proportion, not that Andy's stuttering helped things. But it wasn't what Lily thought, not at the time anyway, and now that Nate had officially put their relationship on hiatus, why not? It wasn't like Andy could have the person she wanted, so why not have a bit of fun?

She hadn't spoken to Lily in over a week, so she didn't know Andy was on her way to Paris. Andy looked over at Miranda, who was unusually quiet as she perused the Book and fought the urge to ask the woman if there was anything she could do. She would be busy enough once they hit the ground. She'd have no chance to call anyone and her parents were expecting to hear from her. Andy didn't want to think about, let alone catalog, the confusion of emotions in relation to her parents, so instead, she did what she had been doing for the last four weeks—she ignored everything, pulled out her SideKick, and made sure she was Miranda and _Runway_ ready.

Three days later she found herself crying into a Parisian pay phone, trying to explain to her parents why and how she'd just tossed her future into a fancy water fountain. Her father was strangely quiet in his agreement with her actions. Instead of vocally expressing himself, something he had no qualms doing up to this point, he hung up the kitchen phone (while her mother stayed on the line from the living room) and used his cell phone to arrange Andy's flight home. He didn't want her using _Runway's_ ticket, as she was no longer an employee.

Andy was inconsolable, and after fifty minutes of listening to his wife attempt to calm Andy down, Richard figured there was nothing more he could do but ensure his daughter made it home. It didn't take him too long to arrange and pay for her flight after he found out how long she thought she would need to pack up her things. Instead of rejoining the conversation, he paced around the kitchen until he heard his wife hang up the phone.

Cecilia closed her eyes and leaned back into the couch, waiting for her husband to join her. Neither of them wanted to put too much thought into how much the collect call from Paris was going to cost them. She didn't open her eyes again until she felt the couch dip beside her. Richard's arm wrapped itself around her waist moments later. Their eyes met in silence as they both processed the conversation.

Minutes passed before he spoke. "What can we do?"

Cecilia could not stop the sigh that escaped her lips, "There's not much we can do. We just have to wait until she realizes what's happening." She paused and watched Richard run his fingers through his short hair before placing his arm back around her. "And be there for her when she does."

There was more silence while Richard tried to understand, and even visualize, what his wife had been trying to tell him. It started shortly after Andy changed her wardrobe. Cecilia was convinced that Andy's feelings for her boss had started to change at that point. She said that Andy was no longer in love with Nate and that they should be prepared for anything. Richard was trying to hold on to the fact that Andy hadn't actually said that. Andy said she was leaving because of a power-play Miranda made, something about taking away Nigel's dream job. "Maybe we're wrong. You know, we are so far outside of it; maybe we're looking at it from the wrong angle."

Cecilia shook her head. "She wasn't this upset when Nate said he was leaving," her voice rose a little, "and this was _her_ decision."

"That's not saying much. He's been acting like a child through this entire process. Just because she's not in love with him anymore doesn't mean…"

"No. It doesn't. But look at the changes she's made and why. You can't undo that. I'm pretty sure their relationship is over."

Richard conceded with a nod.

"And at some point," Cecilia continued, "she'll figure out why."

"We had it so easy."

"And we thought she would, too."

At twenty-three, he believed his child had her whole life ahead of her. Listening to her voice, the panic, the confusion as she spoke, made it painfully clear she believed every chance of happiness was being ripped away from her.

As usual, Cecilia was on the same wavelength, "Do you really think she'll blacklist her?"

Richard wanted to say that might be better than her bedding her, instead he shook his head, "I don't know. The woman is the definition of unpredictable." They knew (second-hand, of course) what Miranda was capable of, and some of it was quite scary. Richard thought back to his one and only visit to New York, and if nothing else, he knew, first-hand, the fear the woman invoked. He had also seen the way the woman affected his daughter, even if at the time he was trying to ignore it

"I still have a hard time believing it," Cecilia said through a weak laugh. "Admiring the woman is one thing, but the way she started to defend her every move, even while hating it…"

"I guess she couldn't defend this one."

"Or she figured she was next."

"Do you really think she would have had a chance anyway? I mean the woman is our age, with teenage twins."

Cecilia could hear the pleading in her husband's voice, but he'd get over it if it got to that point. "I can't even guess what her chances might be now, but there was none while she was her assistant, even if the woman felt the same way; she would never have allowed it."

Richard nodded.

"She must trust Andy," she continued, "or at least she did." She couldn't even imagine how Andy's actions would change Miranda's opinion of her.

Cecilia was right—there had to be some type of trust. While Andy is intelligent, quick, and meticulous with her tasks, she had given Miranda plenty of reasons to fire her. Richard remembered the first time Andy had delivered 'The Book.' She had called the morning after, so convinced, for the umpteenth time, that she'd be fired before the day was over.

"Well," he said smiling, "she was doing something right, I mean, it's not like she got fired."

Richard and Cecilia never forgot that conversation or the phone call that came before it, but Andy was in such a state that she remembered less than half of what she told her parents and only one bit of advice from her mother. She got a taxi back to the hotel and packed her things as quickly and as quietly as she could. She arrived at the airport fours hours before her flight was scheduled to leave. She spent three hours going back and forth between changing her plane ticket from New York to Cincinnati. Her parents would let her move back in, she could work at Burger King if she had to. There was no point in going back to New York. She had lost her job, her best friend, her boyfriend, and, if Miranda really did blacklist her, her future. But then she remembered her mother's stern voice telling her she was not to make any major decisions until her lease was up.

Andy wasn't nearly as clueless to the real reasons for quitting her job as her parents thought. By the time she stepped out of the cab onto the curb in front of her apartment building she had put all the pieces together. It would be another week before she and her mother really talked about it, but they would.

When she walked into the apartment and found it devoid of Nate's belongings she decided he should be the next to learn of her return. She vowed to call Lily at some point, but she was not in a rush to do that. The last time they had spoken was when Lily had chewed her out for flirting with Christian. Andy couldn't remember the last time she saw Lily so mad and wanted to make sure she had some time to calm down, maybe forget why she was mad, before she called her.

Nate was surprisingly pleasant and agreed to meet Andy at the cafe where they often had breakfast, about three blocks from the apartment. Nate seemed very pleased that Andy had quit _Runway_ , and she didn't quite understand it, seeing how he had taken a job in Boston that started in two days. Doug's apartment was acting as storage until then.

"We could still fix this Andy. If you quit, then some of the Andy I know and love is still there."

Andy smiled at his optimism, but she didn't agree. "Nate, I—"

"And you don't have anything tying you here anymore."

"You were right."

"What? About what?"

"About me. I've changed. I'm not the same person you fell in love with. Parts of her are still here, they always will be." She ran her fingers through her hair. She might not still be in love with him, but she did love him and this was going to hurt. "But the new parts, the part that wants to be the best, the part that is a workaholic, the part that knows and appreciates nice clothes, those aren't going anywhere."

"Well, I—"

"I like the new me, Nate. And you've made it very clear you do not."

"That's not true!"

Andy almost rolled her eyes. "It's okay, Nate." She smiled in an attempt to reassure him. "But you weren't happy with how often you saw me and we were living together. How do you think this is going to work from two different states?" She couldn't help the nervousness that expressed itself as a small laugh, this was the most honest she'd been with him since her make-over.

He looked like she just smacked him and she watched his hurt dissolve into anger. "This is about her isn't it?"

Andy sighed.

"What'd you do? Sleep with her? Did she get all Dragon on you? Is that why you quit?"

"She has nothing to do with this." Andy knew that was only a half truth, but it didn't matter. She and Nate were over.

"Andy, she has everything to do with this."

Andy felt her own anger starting to grow, but she refused to show it. "Nate, I would have changed eventually, she just sped up the process."

"Oh, sure, she—"

"No." The sound of her voice surprised Andy as much as it did Nate. Apparently, there were a few other things she learned from Miranda without realizing it. "You think I cheated on you with my boss." There was no need to mention Christian, not now, not ever. "You don't trust me anymore and I don't have the energy or desire to earn it back." She watched Nate's jaw hit the table. "This was your decision. You called the break. You moved out. You took a job in Boston." She took a deep breath while running her fingers through her hair again, her voice a tad softer, "This was your decision. I came here to say goodbye and wish you the best." Nate's jaw was still hanging open.

She stood, "Goodbye, Nate."

Nate jumped up as Andy turned, "Wait."

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Look, Andy, I'm sorry."

She turned to face him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "This is for you." Andy looked cautiously from his face to the envelope. "Take it." He moved closer, holding it out, "It's my half of the rent for the rest of the lease."

There were four months left on their lease. "How did you—?"

"My parents. I was going to mail it. I didn't want to leave you screwed, so..." He looked strangely shy all of a sudden.

Andy stepped forward, took the envelope, and pulled Nate into a hug. "Thank you."

The hug was short and Nate hesitated when it was time to let go. "Bye, Andy."

"Bye, Nate."

Andy cried herself to sleep that night. Not for the loss of a lover—that part of their relationship died months ago; she cried for the loss of one of her closest friends. She cried for the end of her tenure at _Runway_. She cried because she felt she had lost everything.

She woke up the next morning to the sound of someone banging on her door. The last thing she wanted to do was answer it, but with every knock pain pulsated around her head and down to the base of her neck. A non-alcoholic hangover was just what this week needed.

The knocking didn't stop and Andy groaned as she pulled herself from the couch, wondering if she would have been able to ignore it if she were in the bedroom.

"What!?" She yelled as she pulled open the door.

"Damn, girl, you look like hell."

"Lily? What are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself by the looks of things."

Andy looked down at herself. She was still wearing her clothes from the day before, but they were wrinkled and disheveled. Her face was dry and tight, she could almost feel the make-up clogging her pores and she could only imagine what her mascara and eye-liner looked like. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm the mess she knew it had to be.

"Girl, that ain't hitting it." She shook her head while pointing at Andy's head. "Go get a shower, I'll make breakfast." Lily held up the shopping bag in her hand and stepped past Andy and into the apartment.

"I thought you weren't talking to me?"

"Since when does angry mean we aren't talking? Go get in the shower."

Andy watched Lily head into the kitchen. She shrugged. A shower and clean clothes sounded much better than fighting with Lily about why she was there.

While Andy was in the shower Lily made pancakes (something she knew Andy loved, but stopped eating) along with some bacon. She also cut up some apples and bananas, knowing her best friend was trying to eat healthier. At that thought, Lily shook her head. Andy had changed a lot in the last seven months but she hoped her best friend was still in there. But if she wasn't, they'd just have to start all over again.

The table was set and the meal was plated when Andy stepped into the kitchen. Lily could tell Andy wanted to say something but she shook her head and pointed to Andy's plate. She knew her well enough to know food would be beneficial.

The beginning of the meal was quiet. Andy was content to ignore her confusion by eating, and Lily was content to let her.

When about half of her food was gone, Andy spoke. "I'm really happy you're here. I thought..."

"Yeah, I know you did, which just goes to show how far gone you are."

"Yeah." Andy still hadn't looked at Lily.

"So, when were you gonna tell me you were back?"

Andy shrugged. She was going to wait until she thought Lily wasn't angry anymore, or after she found a new job.

Lily sighed. "You still don't get why I was pissed, do you?"

Andy shook her head and pushed her plate away.

"To make a long story short, I was mad that instead of ending a relationship you were unhappy in—," Andy finally looked up, searching out her friend's eyes. Lily smirked, "Yes, I knew you were unhappy. You and Nate never fought, then it was like every other conversation was an argument. But instead of leaving you were going to stoop to cheating on him."

Andy blushed, she couldn't deny it, couldn't start lying again.

"I didn't care you were becoming a workaholic or that _Runway_ was becoming your world. I could care less what you put on your back, but if you thought I was going to sit back and let you become someone you would hate," Lily took a deep breath, her voice had gotten louder and she wanted this to remain a calm conversation, "you had another thing coming."

Andy was stunned to say the least, and Lily watched as her words sunk in.

"But I thought you hated that I was working at _Runway_."

Lily let out a laugh, short and airy. Andy understood the inherent 'aww child.'

"Andy." When Andy said nothing, Lily continued. "We all make fun of our jobs, of all of our bosses. In case you haven't noticed, none of us have made it to the dream yet. I didn't get concerned until you stopped laughing with us, when defending her became more important than laughing at the whole situation."

"Concerned?"

Lily's head shook. For someone so bright, Andy had a few more than her share of stupid moments. "Yeah, you stopped laughing, stopped mocking _Runway_ and the clackers," she wrapped air quotes around the nickname Andy had coined, "and started to withdraw."

"I didn't—"

"Yeah, you did." Lily sipped her coffee and figured it would be a minute before she could finish her meal and pushed her plate away. "You figured you couldn't talk about work anymore and stopped talking altogether. You made work everything."

Andy started fidgeting, spinning her plate on the table.

"You stopped talking to me. You stopped telling me what was going on. You didn't even tell me you were going to Paris or that you were back. I had to hear about that and the demise of your relationship from Nate. I mean, even if I did see it coming, I should have heard it from you."

Andy felt properly chastised but another question stopped her from expressing it, "You saw it coming?"

"Of course I saw it coming. Come on. I even know why it happened."

Andy put a little too much force behind that last plate spin and tried to catch the fork as it went flying from the table. She failed and it clacked as it hit the floor and bounced under the table. She made a show of picking it up to give her time. She wasn't exactly sure what Lily meant and was even less sure about wanting to know.

Lily seemingly switched topics, "Why'd you quit?"

Andy knew it was a trap, but she couldn't tell what kind. "Because I could see the things I was doing and I didn't like them. I didn't want to lose who I was."

Lily nodded, "That's part of it." Then she went back to eating her breakfast.

Andy just stared at her. Was that it? Was Lily gonna let it be? She doubted it, but figured she could use the time to get her head on straight. Her inner voice laughed. She was done eating, so she tossed what was left on her plate into the garbage and refreshed her coffee. Instead of rejoining Lily at the table, she moved into the living room and sat down on the couch. She took a sip of her drink, placed it on the coffee table, leaned back into the sofa, and closed her eyes.

Two minutes later Lily joined on her on the couch. Andy felt the surface dip, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Hey, do you remember Ms Winton?"

Andy groaned. Ms Winton was their eleventh grade English teacher.

"You really do have a thing for old meanies, don't you?" Lily laughed.

Andy joined in as she smacked Lily with the nearest pillow.

Lily spoke through her laughter, "I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well don't." Andy was grateful for the laughter, it felt good and it had been too long. "What about Derek?"

Lily giggled again. "Yeah, yeah." Then she shifted—her position and the conversation. "So, you gonna tell me what happened?"

Andy sighed and sat up. Then she told Lily everything she had not told anyone about the last three months. She told her how she really lost her boyfriend, how she lost her mind, and how she lost her heart. And when she was done, her best friend held her as she cried and mourned the loss of something she never truly had.

Then, almost a week after returning, while leaving _The New York Mirror_ —after a surprisingly good interview—Andy 'ran into' Miranda. Miranda's reprieve prompted Andy to call Emily to arrange the pick up of some clothes. Not just any clothes, mind you, but Paris Fashion Week Clothes, the only reason Emily had dreamt of accompanying Miranda in the first place. Andy felt bad about taking Emily's place—not bad enough to lose her job, but bad enough to make up for it. Being Miranda Priestly's assistant had a number of perks, one of which was designers' desperate need to have their clothes, in any way, shape, or form, associated with _Runway_. As a result, Andy ended up with three or four outfits from every designer featured during Paris Fashion Week and, with Nigel's help, at least one (in some cases, half) of those outfits were assembled to Emily's liking.

Emily was more than ready to hang up on Andy, which wasn't surprising considering her die-hard loyalty to fashion, Miranda, and _Runway_ , but Andy managed to keep her on the phone long enough. Emily insulted her, and Andy laughed it off, knowing how pleased Emily would be when she found nothing would need to be altered. Roy would come, pick up the clothing, and deliver them to Emily. Andy would probably never see the woman again. When she hung up, Andy felt lighter and weighed down at the same time.

Three days later she received a call from an unknown number.

"Andy Sachs."

"If it isn't our very own disappearing Six. From six to four to not even there."

"Nigel!" Andy could hear the reprimand in his voice clearly, but the teasing lessened the blow. Her own voice was colored by surprise and embarrassment. "How'd you get my number?"

"When Emily showed up yesterday in one of our hand-picked outfits, I correctly assumed she had your phone number in the office's call history."

"Nigel, I, um—" Andy started.

"No. No. Not now."

"What?"

"Oh, believe me, I want to hear it all, just not now. What are you doing Saturday, around seven?"

"Nothing at the moment."

"Great. You can buy me dinner. It's the least you can do after leaving me to deal with her Majesty."

"Nigel, really—"

"Nope. Not now. I'll pick a place and send you a text message. See you then."

The hostess led Nigel to the back of the restaurant, to one of the few tables not close to a window. He could tell Andy was nervous, bordering on stressed, by her posture. He waved off the hostess, sending her back to her station before pausing and watching someone he hoped to call friend. She was so lost in her own world, seemingly reading the menu, that she didn't hear him approach.

Nigel debated voicing his presence, but instead chose to stand in her light, casting a shadow over the menu she was so focused on. The shadow crept over half the menu before Andy noticed. In the same second she noticed Nigel standing there, she was up and hugging the man.

Nigel fought laughter, "Calm down, Six, or you'll knock me over."

Andy laughed enough for both of them as she released him. "It's really nice to see you." Nigel heard the unspoken rest of the sentence, as it was written all over the girl's face.

"Surely, you didn't think you had seen the last of me."

"I didn't know, not for sure."

Nigel nodded and gestured for Andy to return to her seat before walking around the table and taking his own.

"Well, it has been crazy since we returned, but I managed to get a couple hours off for dinner."

Andy's laugh was nervous and short. Nigel could tell she wanted to say something, but she didn't say it. Instead, she gave a weak smile and turned back to her menu. They made small talk while waiting for the waiter to take their drink orders. It appeared Andy wasn't going to touch the topic of her untimely exit from _Runway_. Nigel decided he would give her until their meal orders were placed.

Five minutes later, the moment the waiter walked away, meals decided and written down, Nigel spoke, "Why did you quit?"

Andy's embarrassment and blush was almost cute, but Nigel didn't care. Andy hadn't been there, she hadn't seen Miranda's face, nor had she dealt with the misplaced hostility.

Andy was trying to figure out what to say, without saying too much. "Nigel, I—" She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "It was not the life or job I wanted. I don't ever want to have to go those lengths to ensure my dreams or livelihood. I had already done it to Emily, what Miranda did to you. I had to leave before I became someone else entirely."

She was telling the truth, Nigel could tell (the eye contact helped) but that answer was rehearsed and incomplete. "During the busiest week of the year?"

She cringed. "Well, at the time it was the only option. By the time I was calm enough to think clearly it was too late." She sipped from her drink. "I couldn't just show up four hours later and pretend nothing happened."

Nigel couldn't stop the words if he wanted to, "You never know."

Andy's eyebrows rose, her jaw hung a little, and she stuttered, "You—You never know? Nigel, remember who we are talking about here."

Nigel took a deep breath and remembered that in some things he really did know Miranda better than anyone else. He looked at Andy slightly dumbfounded, searching her face. How had she not seen it? He thought, incorrectly, that Miranda had revealed herself to the younger woman, leading to Andy's untimely resignation. At first Miranda was intrigued, then she was determined to break the girl. Then it changed, yet again, slowly, but completely, into something Nigel couldn't believe until the day Andy walked away.

"Of course. What was I thinking." He shook his head. If Miranda had said nothing it most definitely was not his place to. Then Andy's posture slackened, as if her sanity was hanging on his response. Why did she need reassurance that Miranda would have turned her away? "You're not sure it was the right thing to do?"

Andy's laugh was bitter. "I knew it was wrong the moment my phone landed in that fountain."

"So that's what happened to it." His head shook in disbelief.

"I was completely messed up. But my fear for my future self and my anger about what she did to you were enough to keep me going until I made it to the plane."

"Andy." There was a sigh in his voice. "If I would have known what was going on, what Miranda traded that James Holt job for, I would have given it to her in a heartbeat."

"I know." Her voice was small.

"And, I was right. She's already begun to make up for it, in her way, which is as good as an apology."

"Really?"

"Miranda would never attempt to correct a situation she didn't feel needed it."

Andy nodded. She knew he was right. She was pretty sure Miranda would never actually admit to being wrong, but that didn't mean she didn't have feelings or a conscience. And making it up to Nigel, whatever that entailed, was proof of both. Andy would have laughed if the pain in her chest would have allowed it.

The rest of dinner was filled with talk about their jobs, lives, and a few memories from _Runway_. Afterward, Nigel talked her into dinner again the following Saturday, promising she could pick the place and he'd pay. They had dinner every Saturday following that, taking turns; one would pick the restaurant and the other would pay. Neither had cancelled since the first time.

Andy wanted to skip this week's dinner. The desire to go home and drown in her stupidity over the little speech she gave Miranda was strong, but her sense of social obligation was stronger—and she didn't want to be the first one to cancel. Dinner with Nigel was usually fun; it was probably best she utilize the distraction.

She still had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant when her phone signaled a new text. Briefly, she wondered if Nigel had beat her there, but that was quickly forgotten when she thought it could be Miranda. Before she completely succumbed to the pending panic attack she remembered Cassidy said they deleted her phone number from Miranda's phone, to ensure their study date wasn't cancelled.

As it turned out it was a short message from Lily: Come over when you're done.

Andy typed out a one letter reply ('K') and sighed. Lily was going to want to know everything that happened. She was grateful Nigel had no idea what was going on and she'd only have to go over what happened twice, once with Lily and once with her mother, because she was sure her mother would call sometime during the week to see if she'd pulled her head out of her ass.


	9. The Wait

When Andy left Lily's apartment she was feeling much better about her decision. She had a plan for the week ahead and a couple good ideas for outings with her two favorite teenagers. She was worried she'd end up blowing it by contacting Miranda too soon so Lily suggested a substitute.   
  
With a smirk, Lily suggested, ”just dial my number instead. I'll talk you out of doing anything until Saturday.”   
  
"You don't think a week is too long? What if she gets pissed? Or forgets what I said? Or—”   
  
“Andy.” Her tone said everything her mouth did not.   
  
Andy's mouth snapped shut and her eyebrows furrowed as she gave Lily an almost glare.   
  
"For real, Andy. You are spinning on this entirely too damn much." One eyebrow rose in challenge, "The woman is to not going forget about you or it. Chill.”   
  
Andy pouted but let it go. Lily was right. Worrying wasn't going to help anything. She still spent the whole week completely distracted as everything found a way to remind her of Miranda. There was the obvious things like heels, blue and its many shades, lattes, and the initials MP (which came up way more than anyone could have expected, thanks to an article she had to write). There were also things like classical music, certain type fonts, silver cars, and a particular rhythmic tapping that conjured the editor's imagine in her mind. As a result, Lily received fifteen phone calls (a couple within the same twenty minutes) and twenty-eight text messages from Andy that week.   
  
Miranda, however, spent the majority of her week free of distraction. She had long since learned to leave life at home and to focus her thoughts and energy on work. It was something her ex-husbands despised but her former bosses always appreciated. It was also, she assumed, one of the reasons she was able to stay on the top of her game. During the sixty plus hours Miranda worked, _Runway_ and its success were the only things on her mind (a phone call from Cassidy or an email from Caroline being the only exceptions). Unfortunately, Miranda did not spend all of her waking hours working.   
  
In the little free time Miranda had, she was able to go through an impressive range of emotions. There was indignation at Andréa's speech—although, she was not able to pinpoint exactly why. There was disbelief. How could someone of Andréa's age, intelligence, and beauty want to settle for Miranda? Miranda knew she was a self-centered, short-tempered, callous workaholic. Granted, financially, Miranda could cater to any need or whim Andréa had, but Andréa deserved much better than what Miranda could even hope to provide emotionally or romantically. She spent some time feeling conflicted, as she was aware of the fact that she could not ask for a better spouse than Andréa, whether or not she deserved—or wanted—one.   
  
Miranda was confused by a number of things, but the main point of contention was her hesitance. Miranda made decisions based on the best possible outcome and acted on them, regardless of their perceived consequences. In this situation, starting a relationship with Andréa, the best possible outcome felt completely selfish—not not that it had ever stopped her before. The worst possible outcome would be disastrous. Miranda had experienced pain and disappointment with her first marriages and she avoided it with her third by leaving her heart out of the decision. She had loved all of her first two husbands, but in hindsight, she was fairly sure that love would pale in comparison to what she could feel for Andréa. And when Andréa walks away this time, her children would not only be losing a third parent, they would also be losing a friend.   
  
Then there was the problem of love. Miranda’s logical brain said this was just confusion. They had known each other for a whopping eight months. They never talked about anything outside of the work place. They weren’t friends. Saturday was the first time they had ever had a real conversation. How could they be in love with each other? Surely, the constant and unwavering pull she felt was infatuation, curiosity, maybe even lust, but love? She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.   
  
 Her mother said that Andréa had seen the truth of her. Miranda had no idea when this could have happened, but the idea worked as fuel to keep the flame of hope burning. There was the hope that everything would work out. That Andréa really would be able to accept everything that she was and was not.   
  
On Tuesday Miranda became impatient. She had no idea how long Andréa would wait before contacting her and she felt three full days was more than enough. They had a conversation they needed to finish. Miranda bit back a growl when she realized all the contact information she had for Andréa was obsolete. She also stopped herself from grinning like an idiot when she remembered her daughters had used her phone to call Andréa. As she scrolled through the Recent Calls list (that went back almost a month) and was greeted by nothing but names, names that she (or Emily) had entered, she embraced her anger and let out sound born from the endless parade of emotions she was surrounded by.   
  
She fought with herself for an hour about whether or not it was appropriate to ask one of her children for Andréa’s phone number, knowing they would no doubt have questions about what she needed it for. In the end she decided it was unacceptable. She went back and forth for less than thirty seconds about calling Nigel or Emily for the phone number she needed. Emily wouldn’t ask any questions, Miranda would just have to deal with her looks of confusion and slight disgust. Nigel, on the other hand—Miranda sighed, she did not want to deal with him.   
  
By Thursday Miranda was now even more weary of Andréa’s absence. She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly she was supposed to be thinking over, nor did she understand or appreciate Andréa definition of the word “soon”—soon was not over six days later.   
  
On Friday night Miranda laid in bed, trying to believe that Andréa was being truthful when she said she would never leave again. As she closed her eyes she indulged daydreaming about the calm she got from being around Andréa. She even went so far as to imagine how that would change and grow if, say, they were cuddled on her couch watching a movie with the girls or walking around Central Park or just simply having dinner together. Suddenly, Miranda was standing on what she knew was her roof, the only house space that rarely saw any usage. Caroline wanted to turn it into a garden, a quiet patio space to make up for the fact they didn’t have a real back yard—not like they had at their father’s house. If only Caroline could see the roof as Miranda was looking at it now, she would pass out from excitement. The door Miranda was standing in front of was the only part that held any semblance to her true roof. She had a circle of concrete, about a foot in diameter, under her, but that was it. The rest of the roof was covered in sand that stretched out for miles in front of her and to the right. Her rational mind wondered what was holding the sand up. Or had her roof moved to ground level? She didn’t think about for too long—who wastes energy trying to figure out a dream? Plus, her attention was pulled to the left. There, her eyes found the back of two beach chairs, separated by an end table facing a beautiful clear blue of an ocean.   
  
Miranda could see someone was already sitting in one of the comfortable looking chairs and she made her way over, already knowing who it was. She didn’t realize she didn’t have on any shoes until she took her first step into the sand, which was warm and unusually soft. She approached with a small smile on her face. Thanks to the wonderfulness of dreams her destination seemed to move towards her and the walk was much shorter than it appeared. When she turned back, her roof had completely disappeared.   
  
“Hello, mother,” she said as she placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder.   
  
 Her mother turned so she could look up at her daughter. “Well, Miriam, it’s about time.” She smirked. “I’ve been waiting since you got home from work today.” She looked around her before she spoke again. “At least it’s a beautiful space. Come, join me.” She waved her hand in the direction of the empty chair next to her.   
  
Miranda lowered herself into the chair and it was so soft, so plush, it practically wrapped itself around her back and legs. She decided to wait for her mother to start this conversation, giving herself a moment to enjoy the breeze, the scenery, and taking the opportunity to relax. Miranda sat next to her mother, in quietness, for an undetermined amount of time. It was nice just to be in the woman's presence and there was no need to push conversation.   
  
At some point, Miranda looked over and realized the end table was no longer between their chairs and the space that was there was almost gone. Her mother looked over at the same time, noticed the change and smiled. She reached over, placing her hand in the middle of the new space. Miranda wasted no time reaching out her own and wrapping her hand around her mother’s. The smile on her felt permanent. She had been longing for this type of peace and was happy to find it in her mother’s presence.   
  
Another indeterminable period of time passed before her mother spoke. “Miriam, you have been focusing on the wrong part of Andréa’s speech.” She tightened her hold on her daughter’s hand.   
  
Miranda turned to meet her mother’s eyes, eyebrow already raised, “Really?”   
  
She nodded and let that sink in before she changed direction. “You have spent your entire life trying to please and appease everyone but yourself. Your family, your friends, your teachers, your husbands, your children.” Their chairs had turned themselves into a couch. Miranda didn’t question it, instead, she was grateful and moved into her mother’s space. “And now you are working to make the whole fashion world happy. And when you are not focused on that your children take up all the energy you were not willing to give to your husbands.”   
  
Miranda pulled back slightly to make eye contact with her mother. She had never thought about it like that. Miranda assumed that she was making everyone in her world, everyone except her daughters, of course, bow to and please her. Never would have it occurred to Miranda that her demanding and strict behavior was just a result of her trying to please the world around her, but it made sense.   
  
Her mother kept going, “The only time you focus on yourself is while you are doing your yoga and even that isn’t fully for you. No, that’s to make sure your body remains at its peak for as long as possible. We couldn’t have an editor of a fashion magazine not look like a super model, could we?” Her mother’s voice showed her disdain for the world surrounding her child and pressures she couldn’t erase.   
  
She pulled her daughter into a proper hug, Miranda’s head resting on her collar bone, and stroked the white hair under her chin. “Andréa wants the same thing I want. She wants you to be happy for no reason other than to see you smile and to hear you laugh. Caroline and Cassidy want this for you, too, but they can’t give the you joy Andréa can.”   
  
Miranda wanted to believe her mother. “But what if I can’t give her the joy she deserves?”   
  
“Did you listen to anything Andréa said to you on Saturday?”   
  
Miranda backed up again, meeting her mother’s eyes, speaking from annoyance. “Of course I did.”   
  
“Then how can you even ask that? Do you think she’s lying?”   
  
“Not lying, not on purpose anyway. I think she’s confused.”   
  
Her mother sighed and pulled her close again. “She’s not confused, but clearly you are.” Her hold on her daughter tightened so she could not get up again. “Love has never been known to be a friend of logic.”   
  
Miranda huffed.   
  
“I know you haven’t had anyone like her in your life before, but she was being honest. Making you happy would be her joy. This is your wake-up call, Miriam. Instead of worrying about when Andréa will return you think about what she actually said and what you will do when she does return. Because she will return, Miriam. She can no more be away from you than you can handle the fact that she is away from you. Can you do that for me?”   
  
“Yes.” Miranda said with a slight scuff.   
  
“Good.” They had spent so much time in silence, she knew Miranda’s alarm was about to go off so she prepared her for it. “Now, have a great day at work, bobbsey.”   
  
Miranda snorted as she shifted, pulling herself up to her proper height, and whispered, “Thank you, Mom.” She was grateful for the chance to see her mother’s smile before her alarm clock completely woke her.   
  
Miranda spent all of Friday, for the first time since she could remember, completely distracted. She could not focus on work or her daughters (for the short time they were home before heading to their father’s house), nor could she focus on the Book. Every time she thought she had removed Andréa from her mind, every time her mind wandered to something other than the younger woman, she heard the words: _Because in the end, I'll be holding the hand of the woman who holds my heart._


	10. The Surrender

It had been one week since Andy's speech and she couldn't wait any longer if she wanted. She was nervous wreck, but she was going to show up, unannounced, at Miranda's door and hope for the best. She stopped at Starbucks on the way and picked up a coffee in hopes of mollifying Miranda. When she finally arrived at the townhouse her nervousness, mainly about the unannounced part, got to her. Instead of knocking, or even walking up the small set of porch steps, she paced the sidewalk in front of the townhouse. When she realized the coffee was cooling with ever step she took, she took a deep breath and, taking Nigel's past advice, girded her loins and made her way the front door.

Miranda was seated in her den, reading _Harry Potter 7_. The house was completely quiet, her daughters were with their father. She couldn't erase Andréa from her mind, so she did the next best thing and embraced what she had of the girl. She had been reading for almost two hours and was beginning to have a thirst for Starbucks. She was reluctant, knowing if she stopped reading her mind would become consumed by Andréa's continued absence. She had attempted to take her mother's advice, attempting to come up with a plan for the girl's return, but without a proper image of the situation she was at a loss for how to move forward. So distracting herself from her reading, to make coffee, was out of the question. She was nearing the Battle at Hogwarts when there was a knock at the door.

Miranda wasn't expecting anyone and she was annoyed at the interruption. She marked her page, leisurely placed the book on the coffee table and slowly made her to the front door—whoever it was could wait. She did not bother to check the peephole, she simply swung the door open and one of her coldest voices asked, "What?"

Her tone caused Andréa to take a step back. As Miranda's eyes bore into her ex-assistant she noticed the white paper cup in Andréa's hand and an eyebrow lifted.

"Tall Latte, no foam, two raw sugars, hot as the sun."

Speaking of the sun, Miranda was sure Andréa's smile could give it a run for its money. The anger and annoyance she she previously felt was slipping from her body and she fought to hold on to it. She would give the girl a piece of her mind. She didn't trust herself to just say hello—her relief and joy second to her frustration and impatience—so she said nothing. She silently stepped aside and opened the door wide enough for Andréa to enter. She didn't wait for Andréa to remove her coat, nor did she shut the door. She walked directly to the den and waited.

She was already in the den before she heard the front door close. She had begun pacing at the sound of the closet door opening. Every muscle in her body stood still when she heard the same door close. The anticipation was messing with her breathing as she waited for Andréa to enter the room. The moment she appeared Miranda verbally accosted. "What are you doing here?"

Andréa didn't speak right away. Instead, she just looked at Miranda, a strange type of gratitude visible in her eyes. "Well, I thought you might want a coffee." Andréa held up the cup, then placed it on the table, next to the manuscript. "And this." It sounded like question. She pulled out a business card and placed it next to the cup. "My number and email."

"What would I need that for?" Miranda almost flinched at how her words cut Andréa, but she kept going. "Oh, I get it. So I can call the next time you disappear. Well—"

Andréa's face was light shade of pink. "Do you know how hard that was? Forcing myself not to call you?"

"Oh, I can imagine." Miranda's sarcasm was thick and false. She almost hoped Andréa could see the falseness of her anger. Almost.

"Miranda," she sighed, stepping closer, "I needed to make sure you had time, honest time, to think about everything." She took another step. "But I told you, I'm not leaving again, regardless of what happens next." One side of her mouth curled up, "Plus, there's something else I need to give you."

"Really?" Miranda was pleased her voice didn't sound as choked as if felt, it sounded as bored as she was hoping for.

"Yeah." Andréa slowly closed the distance between them save a step, raising her arms as she went.

"By all means, move at a glacial pace, surely you know how that thrills me." All the ice and boredom had gone, leaving nothing but a calm warmth.

Andréa laughed as her fingertips touched Miranda's cheek. She ghosted them over Miranda, leaving a trail of heat from her jaw to her ear, resting her palm on Miranda's cheek. Miranda's head acted of its own accord and turned into the caress. Andrea's smile widened.

"I have been dreaming of this for so long." Andréa admitted.

"Of touching my face? Really Andréa."

Andréa moved closer removing all but a whisper of space between them, and Miranda's arms found themselves wrapped around Andréa's neck. Miranda blinked as if she was surprised by her moments before burying one hand into the dark brown hair.

Without her heels on, Miranda had to look up to met Andréa's eyes, "Is this all you have been dreaming of?"

Andréa's smile grew bigger still, "No, but I thought this would be the best place to start." Her free hand was now on Miranda's hip, pulling her, closing all space between them. The hand on Miranda's cheek slid around to the back of her neck, softly rubbing shapes in the smooth skin. Miranda was sure she'd feel those lines for days.

Andréa leaned forward, resting against her forehead before touching the tip of her nose to Miranda's. Slowly, she slid it up to the ridge that made Miranda's face regal, before tracing over the top and trailing down until the tips of their noses were touching again, this time at a slightly different angle. They stood there, quiet and still, allowing themselves the time to enjoy this feeling of being wrapped in each other, the feel of the other's breath upon her lips, the very smell of the other woman bleeding into each of their veins.

"Miranda, I know there are still a lot of things we need to talk about. But I need to know we have time. That you will allow us to take that time." Her voice was so quiet, it was only their closeness that allowed Miranda to hear it.

"I let you in, didn't I?" Miranda could not help the smirk that appeared on her lips, that short sentence defining so many levels of their relationship. And then there was the ice that slipped into her tone, even in this she would be difficult. And she accepted that, because Andréa was ready.

Andy noticed that Miranda's normally ice blue eyes had beautiful specks of grey floating in them, along with something she had never seen so clearly in them before, something that made her whole body tingle. And she responded, not to Miranda's words, but to the feeling Miranda left escape with them. "Yeah well, I do love a good challenge."

Miranda wanted to laugh, but Andréa softly placed her lips on Miranda's and all thought left the fashion queen. One kiss, directly on her lips. Two kisses, one on each side of her mouth. Then another, on her nose. Two more, one over each eye, and then Andréa repeated the cycle, backwards, each kiss softer than Miranda could have ever imagined. Four kisses, the very definition of short and sweet. They just let their lips lay next to one another, still, until Miranda felt Andréa's smile parting her lips ever so slightly.

Andréa closed her lips around Miranda's bottom one, before running her tongue across it. When she released Miranda's lip, Miranda moved forward and kissed Andréa with such force that Andréa shivered before spreading her lips making Miranda's open in tandem and running her tongue along the inside of the editor's mouth.

Miranda felt the grip tighten around her silver hair, felt her hand return the favor, pulling the brunette even closer before their tongues met in earnest. Miranda felt her knees give and she was grateful for the hand that tightened around her waist, keeping her upright.

That kiss could have lasted for minutes, hours, or days, but for Andréa, if felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of denial, frustration, anger, confusion, and unrequited longing all dissipating with Miranda's moan of acceptance.

When the kiss ended, their embrace had not. Andréa spoke through her brighten-than-the-sun smile, "So, what were you doing before I so rudely interrupted your afternoon?"

Miranda didn't want to hide or stop the satisfied hum that preceded her, "I was catching up on some reading."

Andréa gave Miranda another peck to the lips, then one to the cheek, before meeting her eyes again. The same cloud of blue was there, only easier to spot.

Miranda bent and picked up the coffee and the manuscript. She handed the coffee to Andréa and took her free hand, "Come. I'm sure we can find something for you in the library."


	11. The Terms

Andréa was two steps behind Miranda the entire way up to the third floor. When they made it to the library, Andréa stopped in the doorway, jaw slightly slack. Miranda took the coffee from her and made her way into the room. Her library wasn’t very big, not compared to some others she had seen, but it was impressive enough to stop Andréa in her tracks. Miranda sipped the coffee before placing it on the table. She took a seat on the left side of couch in the center of room, her back leaning against the armrest and her feet pulled up underneath her. With the manuscript in her lap, her eyes watched Andréa over the back of the couch as she moved about the room.  
  
On the wall opposite the doorway there were no bookshelves, instead, in the middle of the wall was a huge gas fireplace, its mantelpiece covered in expensively framed family photos. Andréa’s eyes appeared to zoom in, as if she could clearly see the images of Caroline and Cassidy, as if the black and white photos of Miranda with her mother, father, and sister, were easy to spot and make out. Sunlight streamed into the room from the two windows on either side of the fireplace and bathed the couch, a light silver and grey two-seater, that Miranda was sitting on. The dark wood of the coffee table in front of her, and the end tables (one on each side of her, their lamps turned off) lightly reflected the sun’s light.  
  
Next to each end table sat an arm chair, in the same style and color as the couch. They faced each, with the table between. On the way up to the library Miranda had thought about sitting in one of those chairs, but wanted to test Andréa’s resolve. She seemed so sure of herself in the den and Miranda wanted to know if it was lasting. If the younger woman chose to sit next to her, within reach, this relationship might just stand a chance. But if Andréa was going to operate as if Miranda were the Dragon Lady and revert to having a physical distance between them, well, Miranda would have to put a stop to that as soon as possible.  
  
As Andréa’s eyes moved to the wall to the right of the doorway Miranda couldn’t help but smile a bit. The three remaining walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all the same dark wood of the tables in the room. The doorway was the only book-free space on that wall. Andréa looked about wide-eyed for a few moments before she actually stepped into the room. She started out on the right side, and when she finally noticed the shelves beside and above the doorway, Miranda heard her whisper, “Why am I not surprised?” Then chuckle. Miranda barely heard the comment, her eyes and mind focused on Andréa’s long fingers and the way the very tips touched the spine of each book on the shelf level with her shoulder. The younger woman wasn’t looking at the specific titles, she was breathing in the library as a whole.  
  
“Have you read all of these?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andréa,” Miranda said the name a little slower than usual, relishing in the fact that she could say it to its owner, “when would I have the time?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“However, I have read a good deal of them. This wall here,” she pointed to the left of the doorway, “is made up of reference materials, for both me and girls.” She watched as Andréa’s face lit with understanding—the trip to the library was a gift. Andréa then moved to that section and read a few of the titles, her fingers trailing behind her eyes.  
  
“The other side of that wall is also reference, however, it focuses on fashion.” Andréa shifted and Miranda waited while she took in some of those titles. Andréa noticed the three shelves made up of almost fifty years of _Runway_. She kept them as a reminder of what _Runway_ used to be, what it was now, and what could (and would) continue to be. She blushed as she remembered the way Stephen had laughed when he saw them. He did not understand their purpose—with as much as Miranda gave to _Runway_ , he couldn’t see the need to have them at home. And when he laughed, Miranda felt no desire to explain it. If Andréa asked, she would. But she didn’t ask. She turned to face Miranda, to acknowledge the magazines' presence. Miranda saw nothing but understanding, and it was like balm to her being.  
  
“Over here,” Miranda waved to the left after the moment of stillness, “are books for Caroline and Cassidy. Some are books that they have expressed an interest in and have read. Some can be found on summer reading lists.” Again, Andréa moved the to section Miranda was talking about and searched the titles with both her eyes and fingers. Miranda found herself having difficulty moving her eyes away from those fingertips. “Quite a few of the books haven’t been read yet, they are suggested reading before entering high school and college."  
  
Andréa nodded her understanding before moving back to where she started. “And these,” she waved towards the right-hand side, “and these are your books.”  
  
“Yes. The bottom shelves are the books I have completed while the upper shelves hold my to-read list.”  
  
“Wow.” It was spoken so quietly Miranda almost missed it—but she hadn’t, and she heard the awe behind it.  
  
Andréa started to peruse the shelves in earnest. Miranda began reading, ignoring the ease at which Andréa entered her space, and attempted to ignore the beginnings of a headache. She had been reading all morning without her glasses, and while it was not difficult, it did prove tiresome on her eyes.  
  
A comfortable silence filled the room until Miranda felt her cushion move as Andréa sat down. Miranda looked up, Andréa had sat facing forward, her left leg underneath her, and held up the book so Miranda could see it: _Oranges are not the Only Fruit_. It was from one of the higher shelves.  
  
“I read a review for this a few weeks ago. It's supposed to be very good.”  
  
Miranda nodded at the explanation and turned back to her own reading while Andréa relaxed into her seat. Miranda read another four pages before the feeling of eyes on her became a complete distraction. Usually, staring made Miranda rather uncomfortable, but she had long since grown accustomed to Andréa’s unassuming and curious stare, so she no longer bothered to question her own acceptance of it. When she looked up she found herself looking directly into dark, reflective brown eyes and she tilted her head, ever so slightly, in question.  
  
“Um,” Andréa was running her thumb gently over the page’s edges, “where are your glasses?”  
  
Miranda’s face showed her annoyance, “In the study I assume. Why?”  
  
“Just wondering,” she replied quickly.  
  
Miranda went back to reading and a few seconds passed. “Um, I’m going to get a water. Would you like one?”  
  
“No, thank you. There is Pellegrino in the bottom right-hand drawer.”  
  
“Thanks.” Andréa sat the book down in front of her as she got up. Miranda’s eyes followed her out of the room before returning to Harry’s adventures. She was so engrossed in the tale that she hadn’t heard Andréa’s return. However, she did feel the couch cushion dip a bit at the added weight. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Andréa place something on the table, directly next to the long forgotten cup of coffee before reaching for a coaster. Miranda waited until Andréa's movement stopped before shifting her eyes to the new object. When her gaze fell upon her glasses, she became annoyed. She was not so old that she could not function without these assistive lenses, and if she had wanted them she could have retrieved them herself. Even if her eyes were going bad her legs were perfectly fine. Miranda’s head jerked up, tongue ready to lash out, but seeing Andréa’s eyes, filled with nothing but gentle concern and caring, Miranda’s mouth snapped shut.  
  
“You’re getting a headache.” Andréa’s voice was genuine and matched the look on her face. Miranda’s lips were thinner than usual and she gave Andréa a mild glare as she put on her glasses. Her reward was that smile that made her glad she was sitting.  
  
Again, a comfortable silence fell over them as they read. Miranda made it another five pages before she felt the air in the room shift and the movement next to her. A paragraph later she knew Andréa was once again looking at her. This time when she looked up, Andréa was sitting in a fashion similar to Miranda’s and facing her.  
  
“What is it this time?” Miranda’s voice was flat but laced with curiosity and mild impatience.  
  
“Sorry I keep interrupting.”  
  
Miranda simply waved her free hand—it was obvious there was something on Andréa's mind.  
  
“So.” Andréa looked down at the book in her hand, gently turning it over in her palm. “I get half-days at The Mirror, Thursdays." She flipped the book again. "Since I’m going to start doing a lot more work that—” she flipped it over again "—doesn’t require me to be in the office.”  
  
Miranda reached over and placed her hand atop Andréa’s, forcing the fidgeting to come to an end. She took a second to enjoy the warm softness before lifting her eyes and pinning Andréa with a look that very much said get-on-with-it.  
  
“Right. So I was wondering if it would be okay for me to spend more time with Caroline and Cassidy."  
  
Miranda's only response was the tiniest widening of her eyes.  
  
"Last week was just a reminder of how much I missed you, all of you." Andréa flipped her hand under Miranda's and wrapped her fingers around it. "If you aren't opposed to it, I would like to spend more time with them, as well. I mean I would never attempt to encroach on your or Greg's time with them. I just thought that—"  
  
Miranda raised her free hand in a request for silence that Andréa immediately granted. She knew Andréa enjoyed spending time with her daughters, but she wasn't prepared for such a request. Not first thing. She had thought Andrea would start with spending more time with her, making sure this was what she wanted—that Miranda was what she wanted—before bringing her children into it.  
  
It didn't help that Caroline and Cassidy had such shaky relationships with the other men in Miranda's life. Greg had only fought for custody of their daughters as a way to get back at Miranda for her so-called abandonment. Even now, he chose to see them one, maybe two, weekends a month, trading off every other holiday. After their divorce Miranda dated a few men, half of which fled the moment she mentioned her children. Stephen only spent time with Caroline and Cassidy at the beginning of their relationship, trying to prove he could be a good father. Their bonding time had decreased so much that by second year of their marriage, Miranda knew the little time he did spend with them was a means of pacifying her. Not that the girls minded—they never did warm up to Stephen. Not in the way they warmed up to Andréa.  
  
She sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Why?"  
  
An effortless smile appeared on Andréa's face, "Well that’s easy. I like them. They're smart and funny and easy to be around." She leaned forward a tad and whispered, "Just like their mother," with a wink, ignoring Miranda's eye roll and leaning back. "Miranda, I'm serious, I want to be a part of your life and theirs.”  
  
“What if this,” Miranda was talking to their joined hands, making a vague gesture between them with her free one, “what if it doesn’t…” She couldn’t bring herself to actually say it.  
  
“Would you deny me friendship?”  
  
“What makes you think you’d still want to be friends?”  
  
“What makes you think I wouldn’t?”  
  
“Experience.”  
  
“But you have never experienced anything like me,” she said. Miranda finally looked up and saw the cocky smile gracing Andréa’s features.  
  
“Well, then, shall we alert the press?”  
  
Andréa rolled her eyes. “ I want to get to know them. I want them to know me.”  
  
For a few long seconds Miranda searched Andréa’s face, for what, she wasn’t entirely sure. “Because Caroline and Cassidy have requested my permission to 'hang out' with you as well, I have no reason to oppose.” The ‘yet’ was heard.  
  
Andréa's smile lit up the room. "Thank you, Miranda. I know this is not easy for you," she squeezed the hand still in her own, "and you will not regret it."  
  
"You are certainly sure of yourself."  
  
"I am. What do their Thursdays look like?"  
  
"As of right now, that is one of their free days. So, usually homework and friends."  
  
Andréa nodded. "So, does that mean I can come over every Thursday they are free?"  
  
"You're asking for an awful lot, aren't you?" Miranda's voice had a stony playfulness to it.  
  
"I only dare ask for the best." She winked and her smile grew in relation to the barely-there pink gracing Miranda's cheeks.  
  
"So I see."  
  
“So, this Thursday?”  
  
Miranda nodded.  
  
“Cool. We’ll stay in this week.”  
  
“This week?”  
  
“Yeah. I want to talk to them and find out what kind of stuff they like doing before I start making plans for us.” Miranda shot her a look. “Don’t worry, I will make sure you are aware of what, when, and how. I won’t allow anything to happen to them.”  
  
“Who said I was worried?” Miranda huffed. She knew Andréa would not allow any harm to come to Caroline and Cassidy. There was no need to worry, not last week, not now, not later. "You have plans for my children, but I have heard nothing of your plans with me."  
  
Andréa blushed a deep red and Miranda felt herself respond, immediately pulled into Andréa’s train of thought, but this was not the time. She pushed that aside, cleared her throat and continued. "I have also gone over my schedule." The morning after the beach dream with her mother, Miranda ran a fine-toothed comb over her schedule, looking for any constant opening that could be set aside for Andréa. They would need the time to get to know one other, to learn how to communicate, and to balance out their interactions. Her eyes fluttered to the coffee cup and she couldn’t help but think the latter would be harder than the former. "How long are your lunch breaks?"  
  
"An hour." Her face was colored with slight confusion.  
  
“Good. I propose we meet for lunch on Friday."  
  
“Friday when?"  
  
"Every Friday." Andréa's face was now a mix of excitement, confusion, and hope. "As you seem to understand, getting to know one another is important."  
  
"Well, I figured we'd go on dates, like out to dinner, you know, when your schedule allowed."  
  
"Date night will be on Tuesdays, if that amicable.” She didn’t wait for a response. “It's the only evening Kara is free to stay with the girls." She leaned forward some and smirked when Andréa subconsciously followed.  
  
Miranda saw both the joy and understanding in Andréa’s eyes and she smiled. She placed her other hand on the brunette’s cheek, patting it once before letting it rest, "I intend to follow through on this as much as you do. Granted, I did not know when you were going to return—” Andréa started to speak so Miranda slid her thumb over her mouth, stopping her, “—so this was all speculation. I need only to hear the word to make it a reality." She closed even more distance between them, and again, Andréa followed.  
  
As Miranda moved her thumb from Andréa’s mouth a new smile formed (this one making Miranda feel as if her heart was swelling in her chest). Miranda inhaled deeply and waited, this would be the last time she asked. There would be no looking back.  
  
"Yes."  
  
That was all Miranda needed to know and all Andréa could say before Miranda was kissing her. It was slow and soft, and when Andréa parted her lips their tongues touched in promise—promises Miranda intended to keep. When the kiss ended, Andréa's knee-weakening smile had returned. Again, Miranda was glad she was sitting. "May I finish my book now?"  
  
Andréa released her hand and answered with a laugh. "Yes, of course."  
  
Andréa watched as Miranda leaned back and reopened the manuscript. And Miranda felt those eyes on her for a page and a half before Andréa returned to her own book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *\\(^o^)/*. Thanks for reading and (for those of who you did) commenting.  
> This little message is to inform you that (while I am working on it) I have no idea when I’ll be posting the next chapter. Thank you for your patience.


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